Friday, May 28, 2010

So here's the deal...

I have several blogs floating around in the space between my ears, but they're all pretty intense.

Usually, after hard-core posts (like the past couple posts), I like to throw in a little comic relief.

But the comedian has left the building.

So... what would y'all like? A little more intensity soon? Or a little comedy later?

Your choice.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

My closest friend (part 2)

I hope that it's painfully obvious that I don't actually talk to my friends like that.

But that is the way the Lord chose to reveal this sin to me. Because that's what it is. Sin.

I tried to sugar coat it. I tried to tell Him that I'm just giving myself a realistic self-image. I'm not depressed. I'm not unhappy. I'm fairly confident but, Lord, do YOU see my thighs? And do YOU see the numbers on the scale? I'm just being honest when I say that I'm lazy and I did this to myself.

That's when He replied: "Don't talk about my friend like that."

Ouch.

I'm not alone in this, right? I think we women are especially prone to being harder on ourselves than on anyone else.

We would never scream at our best friend for gaining two pounds.

We would never deny our child breakfast because she had dessert with dinner last night.

We would never demean someone or make them feel like a failure because they made a mistake.

We encourage. We uplift. We even tell little white lies so that people feel good about themselves. We love. We forgive. We overlook. We forget.

As women, we have the profound ability to look past someone's imperfections, to see beyond their outward appearance, to search deep into their hearts, and to find a reason to love them despite their apparent flaws. We hear about it all the time in cases of abused women. We listen to their story in disbelief as they answer the question, "Why did you stay?"

Because I love him.

Because when he isn't drunk, he really is a good man.

Because he never hurt the kids.

Because he promised me he would change.


We sit back and judge their reasoning. But is it really so unbelievable? Is it really that difficult to understand their need, their desire, to see past the flaws and love the person underneath?

We women love hard. God has given us the rare ability to love our husbands, our children, and each other with a love that goes far beyond a fleeting, wimpy love. It's a love that pierces through the outside shells and sinks into the soft, god-like part in the middle.

But when it comes to ourselves, we can't get past the cottage cheese thighs.

Women can forgive the most heinous of crimes against our soul. Rejection. Abandonment. Neglect.

But we can't forgive ourselves for eating that potato chip last night.

We look at those who suffer from anger, and see abuse from their past. We look at those who run from relationships, and we see the abandonment with which they still wrestle. We look at those who work too hard, drink too much, or care too little... and we see who they are beneath all the crap that the world has laid upon them.

But when we look at ourselves, we see failure and lack of discipline. We see the enemy.

But I'm done with that. It's disgusting. It's unfair. It's a self-inflicted nightmare that I refuse to give into.

Because He created me. He loves me. He is my friend.

And I won't talk about His friend like that anymore.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

My closest friend...

I have this friend. She is very dear to my heart. I've known her for as long as I can remember. We were in diapers together. We went to the same high school and college. We had kids around the same time. For most of our lives, we have been joined at the hip.

I love this dear friend. She has been with me through every difficult situation, every boyfriend (and subsequent rejection), every big event, every major decision. She knows more about me than anyone else, and she still loves me.

But sometimes she's a little, well, obnoxious. She talks way too much. She's REALLY hormonal. And she's fat. Like, really fat.

What?

It's not like I'm talking behind her back. I tell her all the time.

That's the other thing. She NEVER listens to me. I am constantly telling her what she needs to do to not be so fat. But she's stupid too. Like, seriously, really stupid. And lazy. That's probably why she's so fat and stupid. All she has to do is get off the couch and stop eating so much. And if she had just studied a little harder, she wouldn't be so stupid. It all boils down to laziness.

But I love her. Really. I would do anything for her. It's just, you know, she RARELY does what I want her to do. But it's okay. I'm working on ways to get her to obey me.

First, I yell at her, you know, just to get her attention. Then I remind her of all her faults. "You're fat! You're stupid! You're a terrible wife, mother, friend, and daughter!"

Then I simply instruct her on how to fix all those things: "Work harder. Get up earlier. Eat less, and for goodness sake, STOP BEING SO LAZY."

But, as I said previously, she never listens to me. So I have to figure out ways to make her listen.

First I make her eat so much ice cream that she's sick; then I don't feed her again for three days. Sometimes I just make her look in the mirror while I point out every single little flaw in her appearance. I start with her hair and point out how it's not like the other girls' hair. It's dry at the ends and oily at the roots. It's frizzy and, if she would just take some time to fix it, it MIGHT not be as shapeless as it ALWAYS is. Plus, she should totally go blond. Then I move on to her teeth. ACK! They're SO yellow. It's from all the coffee she just HAS to drink (though I've told her over and over again how bad it is for her). They're also getting more and more crooked every day because (hello!) she stopped wearing her retainer too soon.

Now we get to the easy part. Her arms look like somebody stuffed cottage cheese into pantyhose. Her stomach makes her look pregnant. I put my mouth next to her ear and SCREAM about her butt and thighs because, oh. my. word., they are HUGE! I remind her AGAIN that she should NEVER wear a skirt. Who would want to look at THOSE ankles? And her feet? Well.. size 10... need I say more?

Once I'm finished pointing out her flaws. I tell her she disgusts me for not being stronger. Why should all that stuff bother her so much? She should be used to it by now. It's not like she's a victim. I mean, every single thing I pointed out to her was put there by none other than herself. She IS the one who ate so much ice cream. If she had listened to me all along, we wouldn't even be having this conversation.

Finally, she caves in. She bolsters every bit of confidence she has left (which isn't much, for some reason. I make a note to talk to her about that later). And she PROMISES me that today is the last day she will rebel. Tomorrow, TOMORROW, she will do what I ask and start eating better, exercising more, and become an all-around better person.

I tell her to be sure she does, and to keep her emotions and "hormones" (whatever those are) in check in the meantime. "There's nothing worse than a needy female" I tell her.

Honestly, she's a really sweet girl. She loves the Lord and tries really hard. I just can't figure out why she won't listen. Doesn't she understand that I genuinely have her best interest in mind?

The Quote That Started It All...

I myself have twelve hats, each one representing a different personality. Why be just yourself? - Margaret Atwood