Taylor on the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills has entirely too much top lip. I understand the theory of plastic surgery, but there has to be some point where maybe your friends tell you, "Hey, your lips overlap your chin when you're not using them," stop the implants. Also, Camille Grammar is/was/and will always be a trophy wife...that's it. She was a porn star, and she now looks like a porn star who married well. That's what you get for not building actual skills and having FOUR nannies.
I digress, or maybe not, this is not a structured post, but earlier today, I reminisced about my days on the pageant circuit. And by pageant circuit, I mean through the ages of 7 and 10, my mom insisted on cutting my hair short. It happened initially as a result of a girl in 1st grade cutting a big chunk of my hair to the point we had to cut it. But she KEPT cutting it. In addition, my grandmother gave me Ogilvie home perms that burned my eyes and scalp and gave me processed, blondish brown Michael Jackson hair. It was decided, because I would randomly break into song, (still do) that I should be in talent competitions. Oh, the shame. I was so incredibly awkward at that age, and while I could probably sing as well as any 7-year-old, my voice teacher explained, "There is a high Emily and a low Emily, I want to hear the high Emily." Well, the issue with that is that there is not, nor will there ever be, a high Emily.
I'm not kidding. Like 5 years ago, I went to my friend Jeff's birthday party and with my now dead-to-me Australian pal, I sang "Welcome to the Jungle," and his falsetto was way better than mine. I mean, he was a bit of a dandy, but seriously, mine sounded like when Ana Gasteyer and Will Ferrell used to do their version of the middle school choral teachers. It was very proper, like if an opera singer tried to sing Metallica.
I feel as though in youth, I did a lot of things I really didn't want to do. I think about these things as I think about raising kids and what I want them to participate in and how I don't want to force them into joining teams and clubs they don't want to. I was a Brownie for about 2 weeks (a pre-Girl Scout), but I didn't like the uniform, and I didn't care for people telling me what to do, so I quit. Then, I played basketball in middle school, which I wasn't crazy about, but I did it because all my friends were playing. I could shoot pretty well, but the running and blocking and stuff eluded me a bit. Plus, all of the middle school games were at like, 9 in the morning, 30 minutes away...no, thank you.
I also played softball, which, for a brief period, I was quite the little superstar. I could hit okay, at least to where I could get on base, I was an awesome catcher and fielder, and I ran really fast. Then, I started having this weird thing where I would be running and my left knee would just pop out of place, which would make me collapse in a little heap wherever I was. I had to be carried off the field at least twice, and in Macon, our softball games were pretty much the only game in town.
So, my coach became a psycho. I played tennis, which I loved, and he gave me an ultimatum that I would a. have to choose between tennis and softball and b. if I chose softball, I'd have to have surgery or he wouldn't play me. Yah, that was a real tough decision. I believe I went to the state tennis finals that year. Jackass...sports should be fun for children, period. If you are the Nick Saban of junior high softball, I'm sorry that you must've failed at many things, but don't take it out on teenage girls.
In conclusion, I love being married more than anything, honestly, I do. If Smitty and I were locked in a closet, we could make each other laugh, and I'm sorry, but if you can't make your significant other laugh, you are not going to make it. However, there are those days that I am in excellent spirits, and he is the complete opposite...not because of me, but those other folks are not around. I am not a fan of misplaced anger. I have dealt with it quite a bit, having been the product of a co-dependent household. The good news is, I know when it's displaced anger and when it's an actual thing, so rather than exercise my natural instinct to yell back "What do you want from me?:" I just kind of acquiesce and let the situation pass.
"Don't marry the person you think you can live with; marry only the individual you think you can't live without. Dr. James C. Dobson
No comments:
Post a Comment