Tagged! Part 1
It's all The Anchoress' fault. Well, not really. It's whoever tagged her first's fault. 'Cause she tagged Tracey and Tracey tagged me.
I love blathering on incessantly, even if it's just to hear the sound of my own voice. And I love writing, else I wouldn't run a BLOG, for the love of Pete. Plus, I'm a nerd with an honors English degree and a mother who has taught the subject for 35 years. If I had a fun homework assignment once a week, I'd be sooo happy. It's sick, I realize.
Ten Years Ago:
I was 100 pounds heavier, a radical feminist, art student and pack-a-day smoker. Trooped through life high most of the time. Didn't care. Learned/taught myself how to play guitar that year... so that was good. Wrote songs, formed a band, played gigs. Was busy trying to get rid of someone I was involved with who was older and completely inappropriate for me in favor of someone else much older and even more inappropriate. That fell through so I moved on to someone younger who nearly ruined my life. Figured I had to lose weight to be loved; stopped eating and lost 60 pounds, plus or minus. Ended up in the hospital.
Thought I knew it all. Thought "Christian" was a dirty word. Spent lots of time working on art projects, "furthering my mind", reading, snarking on cheerleaders, smoking, writing bad poetry and looking glib while I walked to class decked in black clothing and hemp jewelry from stem to stern. Didn't wear makeup. Didn't care much about my hair. Got busted. Never voted, but if I did, it would have been for Bill Clinton. Listened to Tori Amos, indie folk and Ani DiFranco. Hadn't cried in 2 years. But not because there was nothing to cry about.
And that's all I have to say about that.
Five Years Ago:
Was living on my own and dating the Fitness Nazi. He also had me convinced I had to lose weight to be loved. I also had to be "perfect" -- as defined by his standards, regardless of his imperfections. I also desperately wanted to get married and have children. He didn't. But at least I'd quit smoking and started enjoying Tae Bo.
Got into a size 6 for the first time in my life. Remember standing in front of the dressing room mirror at Target, trying on a sun dress. I could see all the bones in my sternum. I stretched my arms out to the sides. The bones became more visible. I didn't like it. I felt like... other. I didn't recognize myself. I didn't know who this skinny 5'9" girl was. But I wasn't sure I liked her.
Was a new Christian and soaking up the Word. I read every morning before work for at least 15 minutes. Highlighted every verse I could get my pen on. Cried whenever I felt like it. And sometimes when I didn't. Had a very narrow worldview of the label "Christian". Still, it was blissful ignorance.
Got published for the first time for a short story I'd written about my grandmother. I can still remember opening the mail. I sat in my car and stared at the notice. And cried. Someone actually liked my work. Out of 12,000 entries, someone had looked at my work and said, "Wow. That's good." I traipsed back up to my tiny one bedroom apartment in a daze.
One Year Ago:
I was planning my birthday party, a project MF (then MB) and I were putting together. It involved a costume party, bonfire and marshmallows at my parents' house, waaaay out in the country. Such a blast. Probably the best birthday I've ever had.
I also got to experience my first Halloween with MF/MB. We bought heaps of candy in the run-up to the kids' big candy caper (which, let's face it, is what it really is). Candy that kept disappearing as soon as it found its way into his house, mysteriously.
In the aftermath, we were totally convinced that we had the best candy in the neighborhood. Judging by the loot in the kids' sacks, other houses were chucking out cheap citrus candies, thin lollies, fake chocolate. (?!?!) We were tossing out Reese's cups, Snickers, Peppermint Patties -- top shelf nosh.
I had had mixed feelings about Halloween. I loved it as a child, seeing it as a fun autumnal romp fueled by sugar and a perfectly good excuse to dress up like a punk rocker. My cultic church had convinced me that anyone with even slightly sympathetic feelings towards the Devil's Day was destined for the same fiery furnace as the head trick-or-treater, Lucifer. But the little Princess Jasmines and Spiderkind who showed up on MB's doorstep didn't reek of brimstone. Interesting.
We were eventually busted for being kids in grown-up costumes, though. We were playing a game of "chase" around the stairwell (MF/MB always wins because I giggle too hard to keep my wind). We forgot our silly antics would be in plain view of the children through the dining room window. The doorbell rang and I bolted to answer it with the candy, panting. I was greeted by a little 6 year-old angel/princess stifling a giggle. She chuckled out a very weak and accusing "trick or treat". I paid her off in mini Almond Joys.
Was getting used to the idea of being loved for who I am, not who someone wants me to be; not having to squash down my personality to make someone else happy; eating; being imperfect; questioning the institutional church; trusting someone with my heart... and not being disappointed.
One Day Ago:
I was working like a madwoman all day, and then at 5pm, trying to get up enough energy and motivation to attend the 2nd week of my cake decorating class. I'm glad I went. Who knew icing could be this much fun? Learned I'm a very good cursive icing writer, how to make star tipped decorative cakes, the beginning stages of a rose, and the awesome things one can do with piping gel. YAY!
One Hour Ago:
Was fielding phonecalls, filling out paperwork, trying to locate an employee who is on the run from the police... And trying to remember to call the power company and the renter's insurance company to cancel the coverage on my apartment. "Yes, I'd like to close my account. Oh, no I'm very happy with your services. I'm getting married in a few weeks..."
I love blathering on incessantly, even if it's just to hear the sound of my own voice. And I love writing, else I wouldn't run a BLOG, for the love of Pete. Plus, I'm a nerd with an honors English degree and a mother who has taught the subject for 35 years. If I had a fun homework assignment once a week, I'd be sooo happy. It's sick, I realize.
Ten Years Ago:
I was 100 pounds heavier, a radical feminist, art student and pack-a-day smoker. Trooped through life high most of the time. Didn't care. Learned/taught myself how to play guitar that year... so that was good. Wrote songs, formed a band, played gigs. Was busy trying to get rid of someone I was involved with who was older and completely inappropriate for me in favor of someone else much older and even more inappropriate. That fell through so I moved on to someone younger who nearly ruined my life. Figured I had to lose weight to be loved; stopped eating and lost 60 pounds, plus or minus. Ended up in the hospital.
Thought I knew it all. Thought "Christian" was a dirty word. Spent lots of time working on art projects, "furthering my mind", reading, snarking on cheerleaders, smoking, writing bad poetry and looking glib while I walked to class decked in black clothing and hemp jewelry from stem to stern. Didn't wear makeup. Didn't care much about my hair. Got busted. Never voted, but if I did, it would have been for Bill Clinton. Listened to Tori Amos, indie folk and Ani DiFranco. Hadn't cried in 2 years. But not because there was nothing to cry about.
And that's all I have to say about that.
Five Years Ago:
Was living on my own and dating the Fitness Nazi. He also had me convinced I had to lose weight to be loved. I also had to be "perfect" -- as defined by his standards, regardless of his imperfections. I also desperately wanted to get married and have children. He didn't. But at least I'd quit smoking and started enjoying Tae Bo.
Got into a size 6 for the first time in my life. Remember standing in front of the dressing room mirror at Target, trying on a sun dress. I could see all the bones in my sternum. I stretched my arms out to the sides. The bones became more visible. I didn't like it. I felt like... other. I didn't recognize myself. I didn't know who this skinny 5'9" girl was. But I wasn't sure I liked her.
Was a new Christian and soaking up the Word. I read every morning before work for at least 15 minutes. Highlighted every verse I could get my pen on. Cried whenever I felt like it. And sometimes when I didn't. Had a very narrow worldview of the label "Christian". Still, it was blissful ignorance.
Got published for the first time for a short story I'd written about my grandmother. I can still remember opening the mail. I sat in my car and stared at the notice. And cried. Someone actually liked my work. Out of 12,000 entries, someone had looked at my work and said, "Wow. That's good." I traipsed back up to my tiny one bedroom apartment in a daze.
One Year Ago:
I was planning my birthday party, a project MF (then MB) and I were putting together. It involved a costume party, bonfire and marshmallows at my parents' house, waaaay out in the country. Such a blast. Probably the best birthday I've ever had.
I also got to experience my first Halloween with MF/MB. We bought heaps of candy in the run-up to the kids' big candy caper (which, let's face it, is what it really is). Candy that kept disappearing as soon as it found its way into his house, mysteriously.
In the aftermath, we were totally convinced that we had the best candy in the neighborhood. Judging by the loot in the kids' sacks, other houses were chucking out cheap citrus candies, thin lollies, fake chocolate. (?!?!) We were tossing out Reese's cups, Snickers, Peppermint Patties -- top shelf nosh.
I had had mixed feelings about Halloween. I loved it as a child, seeing it as a fun autumnal romp fueled by sugar and a perfectly good excuse to dress up like a punk rocker. My cultic church had convinced me that anyone with even slightly sympathetic feelings towards the Devil's Day was destined for the same fiery furnace as the head trick-or-treater, Lucifer. But the little Princess Jasmines and Spiderkind who showed up on MB's doorstep didn't reek of brimstone. Interesting.
We were eventually busted for being kids in grown-up costumes, though. We were playing a game of "chase" around the stairwell (MF/MB always wins because I giggle too hard to keep my wind). We forgot our silly antics would be in plain view of the children through the dining room window. The doorbell rang and I bolted to answer it with the candy, panting. I was greeted by a little 6 year-old angel/princess stifling a giggle. She chuckled out a very weak and accusing "trick or treat". I paid her off in mini Almond Joys.
Was getting used to the idea of being loved for who I am, not who someone wants me to be; not having to squash down my personality to make someone else happy; eating; being imperfect; questioning the institutional church; trusting someone with my heart... and not being disappointed.
One Day Ago:
I was working like a madwoman all day, and then at 5pm, trying to get up enough energy and motivation to attend the 2nd week of my cake decorating class. I'm glad I went. Who knew icing could be this much fun? Learned I'm a very good cursive icing writer, how to make star tipped decorative cakes, the beginning stages of a rose, and the awesome things one can do with piping gel. YAY!
One Hour Ago:
Was fielding phonecalls, filling out paperwork, trying to locate an employee who is on the run from the police... And trying to remember to call the power company and the renter's insurance company to cancel the coverage on my apartment. "Yes, I'd like to close my account. Oh, no I'm very happy with your services. I'm getting married in a few weeks..."
posted by WordGirl at 1:54 PM
2 comments
2 Comments:
I'm really glad you are who you are, WG. I hope you don't hold your past too much against yourself; w/out it you would be a different person.
Thanks, y'all! Parts 2 and 3 are coming on Monday and Tuesday.
Been waiting for this, huh? *blush* Aw, shucks.
WG
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