People are always telling me how smart I am, which demonstrates one thing quite clearly . . . people in general must be really stupid. I'm actually not particularly smart, motivated, or hard-working. I'm simply practical and I have more common sense than the average bear. A smart person wouldn't be perplexed childproof caps; sweaters without head holes (www.stitchfix.com – I'm still not over that incident); plungers; and lawn mowers, to name a few forms of personal kryptonite. For years, I believed that all cows slept standing up – until I moved to cow country and noticed many cows prefer to sleep in a seated position. Thus, I'm also still confused by cow tipping. These are not characteristics of the intellectual, folks.
What I do have in abundance is common sense, and I occasionally find myself indignant at the sheer lack of civilized manners that exist in our society. You need look no further than your local airport to witness this in action. In spite of the posters, television ads, and verbal warnings, there are always people dragging Big Gulps and giant cans of hairspray through security. These are the same people who "forget" to empty their pockets; leave their shoes and belts on; and generally need a minimum of three tries to get through airport security. Now, I'm confident these idiots are not terrorists or up to any nonsense, because a real criminal would be a lot sneakier. Of course, I accidentally tried to bring a corkscrew through airport security last year (I didn't realize it was in my bag) so I get it. Stuff happens.
In general, I try to summon up as much patience and graciousness for life's idiots as I can. It's unlikely, after all, that these people are waking up every morning with the sole objective of making me lose my shit. Thus, I typically take a deep breath, allow for a quick eye-roll, and deal with it. Most of the time, this tactic works. However, there are times, places, and behavior I find so egregious that I feel compelled to confront it. It's as if Boss Hogg descended from the heavens and deputized me in these moments, and I am obligated to do my civic duty. I have been known to pick up litter and chase after its bug to return it with the helpful phrase, "I think you dropped this." If my gym refuses to enforce their own rules of 20 minute limit on cardio machines while others are waiting, I shall police the elliptical machines on their behalf. I'm not going to wait while you clock an hour on that machine, Grandpa Tiny Running Shorts. Move along. My particular hot button, however, is uncivilized rudeness.
Newsflash: no one wants to wait in line. Lines suck. Waiting sucks. But if I have been waiting in line for 20 minutes and you suddenly show up in all your entitled glory and cut the line in front of me, don't think you're not going to hear about it. I observed a prospective line cutter at the airport the other day. When the thought bubble above her head started flashing in neon, I suggested that she rethink her plan. This suggestion was not well-received so I then encouraged her to obtain permission from each of the 50 people she was cutting off in line before making her choice. (Ps. The only way she was cutting in line on my watch is if she stepped behind me.) She did not care for my helpful suggestions but eventually went to the back of the line where she belonged. While waiting in line, she must have been stewing and coming up with some righteous comebacks, because about 10 minutes later, she and her horrific teenaged offspring returned like a recurring nightmare. Teen Spirit was quite disrespectful to her elder (me) but with such a lousy role model, I overlooked much of her sauciness. And honestly – if "bitch" is the best you can do, I'm hardly offended. I know I'm a bitch. I hear it all the time. Tell me something I don't know.
I wish this story had a better ending, but unfortunately, everyone else in line was a big pansy, and since I didn't think fisticuffs in the airport would get me to the front of the line any faster, I was left with nothing but my impotent rage when she returned and eventually cut in front of me in line. This would have been an excellent chance to embrace my anthem and give up or give in. I tried. I really did. But this asshole family was in my way everywhere at the airport. At one point, I wound up in front of them in yet another line, and neutered husband leaned in and said, "See? You beat us after all." Oh, sir. No. I want to beat you senseless with my shoe, but that will merely get me arrested and placed on a no-fly list. So, instead of giving him the beat down he deserved, I leaned in, patted his arm in a patronizing manner, and said in my most seething tone, "Oh, sir. You seem confused. We're not in a competition. It's not about who gets there first, it's about the rules of living in a civilized society and it's about having common decency and manners. It's a shame that you can't role model this for your children. They're going to grow up to be real assholes. Enjoy your flight."
That should have been the end of the story, but because I am karma's bitch, I ran into the Real Entitled Family of Philadelphia again at the gate, because of course we were on the same flight. At that point, neutered husband must have retrieved his testicles from his wife's purse, because the two of them sat near me, glared and me, and loudly talked about me in front of me. At this point, my rage had dissipated and I was more amused than anything else (although, given the chance, I would have gladly slapped the crap out of them) so I stared back with a smirk on my face and prayed to God that I wouldn't have to sit next to them on the flight. Spoiler alert: We were seated in opposite corners of the airplane and there were no further incidents.
So . . . anthem update.
Give Up: Yeah . . . I tried. But sometimes, giving up is harder than it looks. The only thing I gave up on recently was sleep. Between daylight savings time and a trip across time zones, hours were lost. I'm tired.
Wait, wait – no! I lied. I also am giving up on housecleaning. The palace needs a good deep cleaning. When the pets are constantly licking the floors, it's a sign that your filth has hit a new low. Rather than should all over myself and feel shame at my terrible domestic capabilities, I scheduled a housecleaning. Cleaner will be here on Monday and I assure you, it will be about the best $100 I'll spend this month.
Give In: I think the fact that I didn't leave the airport in handcuffs shows that I am capable of giving in when required. I also gave in and said goodbye to my favorite pair of Franco Sarto black ankle boots. These boots go with everything and were a fall and winter wardrobe staple for the past two years. Well-loved and oft worn, they've seen better days and are falling apart. We parted ways on Wednesday and now, I'm looking for a replacement. I also gave in and paid the IRS for my 2014 income taxes. This is only a partial victory as I owe the great state of MN significantly more money and I'm bitter about it, so I'm waiting until the last minute to pay them. Governor Dayton – I think I know where this budget surplus is coming from . . .
Giving It All I've Got: 81 day streak on MyFitnessPal. It's hard to log all your food when you're on the road, away from home, and eating in restaurants a lot. I did the best I could and clearly, overate this week. I'll be staying off the scale for now, thank you. I've also been reading Stop Eating Your Heart Out, which is an interesting look at binge-eating and emotional eating disorders, with an emphasis on developing skills to alleviate the shame, guilt, and fear associated with a dysfunctional relationship with food. Parts of this book resonate strongly and others, not so much. One thing the author recommends is (drumroll, please) keeping a food log/diary and she outlines the benefits of doing so. I guess MyFitnessPal and I are doing something right!
One of the excerpts that resonated most strongly with me is when the author addressed the concept of "shoulding" all over yourself. She recommends that we "change our shoulds to coulds." Instead of saying, "I should go to the gym" or "I have to eat more vegetables", she recommends that we reframe this by saying things like, "I choose to exercise" or "I choose to eat broccoli." She goes on to explain that "the word choose dissipates that poor-me voice and the feeling of being a victim and leads instead to feelings of self-empowerment." I'm still practicing this – unlearning a life of "shoulding" doesn't happen overnight. By the way, I could exercise more than I have been lately. Ahem.
I've gone 80 days without biting my fingernails and to celebrate, I had a manicure and went wild with dark red polish. I can't stop staring at my hands and I suspect that I am wildly gesturing while talking to others just so I can get a glimpse of my pretty digits. I'm hooked on nice nails!
Lastly, and while it may seem like the kind of thing Captain Obvious would share, I am giving all I've got to documenting my journey. Writing is cathartic and although I don't always have something interesting to say, the act of sitting down at my laptop and letting my words out helps create both a sense of peace and some joy in my life. And that is really what giving it all you've got is all about.
© 2015 Princess D
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