This is a t-shirt that we found in the window of a funky little shop in Myrtle Beach. I knew *immediately* that I had to take a picture. Of course, it's taken me forever to POST it, even though my long-suffering husband spotted the shirt, took the picture, and shrunk said picture down to a manageable size to fit on this blog.
As seen at Miche's place -- I can honestly say that I'm neither surprised nor upset to be a dismal failure at this particular test. I think I knew I'd blown it when I realized that I either a) wear a soiled apron while I cook my husband his dinner -- or, heaven forbid, *pyjamas*!, or b) I can't seem to even WEAR hosiery, much less keep the seam in them straight!
Oh, well. As they say, well-behaved women rarely make history.
I got an invitation, rather unexpectedly, the other day from an old Girl Scout friend. The invite was to a "all-day craft event" at her house for this coming Thursday evening. I haven't seen much of this friend this year because I bowed out of leading a troop, so my Girl Scout exposure has been minimal. While our relationship hasn't suffered, it is a change when you're used to being around someone all the time and then that time suddenly just drops off. I was looking forward to an afternoon of food, friends, fun, and fellowship.
My friend and I exchanged a few emails about the upcoming party, which I am excited to attend. The other inhabitants of my house are decidedly NOT as gung-ho about the crafty stuff, so it would be nice to be with other like-minded individuals for a while. Not that I don't love my family, but you all know what I mean, right?!
I finally got tired of trading emails back and forth when we live about ten minutes away from each other, so I picked up the phone. We talked back and forth about the new scrapbook store that opened up here in our town, and about the new stamping and crafting gadgets that are on the market. We speak for a bit about Offspring, who began her Scouting career in this lady's troop. Friend marvels at how far she's come from a shy five-year-old.
Imagine my surprise when later that night, as I'm cleaning up my bedside bookshelf (which was so crammed with books that it exploded when I barely touched it), I find Offspring's Daisy Girl Scout scrapbook. I forget that she was ever than small. Just for fun, I think I'll take it along with me on Thursday, to remind Friend why I'm glad that I know her.
Our school was on the last tax referendum to get a new wing. We've all been very excited at the prospect of moving out of our dinky trailers and into real! actual! classrooms! Even though our building won't be ready until the 2010 - 2011 school year, the land has to be cleared and readied for construction. Next year will be the "clearing and readying the land" year. The *following* year will be the construction year. (Though why it takes two full years to clear the land and construct a building, I'll never know. After all, it is the government. I suppose I should have expected that.) Which, as far as we're concerned, means that as many people as possible had to be housed inside the main school building for this coming school year. So, the great classroom shuffle has begun.
We're moving from our teeny little double-wide trailer (actually only ONE-HALF of a dinky little double-wide trailer) to this humongous (former second-grade) classroom. The only problem is that the powers that be scheduled the floors to be cleaned and waxed. That means that all the furniture has to be placed on the one small carpeted area. Normally, this wouldn't present a problem, but it means that the former teacher who occupied that room has yet to move all of her furniture out, because the room that she's moving to has yet to have the floors done. That in turn means that we can't move our stuff in because her stuff is still taking up most of the space. And the trash left on the floor! Oooh, we won't even go into that.
But, for now, it looks like I'm going to be next door to a teacher that I've grown fairly close to over this year. Hope things stay that way, and that there are no further upheavals in my schedule.
Sorry for the long silence. It's been a busy and not-so-glorious last few weeks.
* Thanks to everyone who contacted me regarding my last post. I really appreciate all of your kind words and thoughts. To be honest, I wasn't seeking approval and compliments with that, it was just something that was really bothering me, and I felt like maybe I could write all the pain out of me if I tried hard enough. Didn't work, but I did feel better enough to finally go to sleep. It was a very disheartening evening for me, and those of you who mailed and called really helped me work through the funk.
* Both my show and school are over. (Thanks be to all benevolent forces out there.) Last show was June 8th, and last day of school was yesterday, June 13th. I just have to get all my crap moved to the new classroom and fill out some last minute paperwork, and I'm clear.
* Got Offspring off this weekend for a Girl Scout Field trip. It's weird not having her in the house. Sat on the couch, watching "Juno" with Juggling Freak, and then went and spent lots of money at the grocery store.
* I also signed up for Facebook, and have been busy playing all the neat little game widgets there.
* Made 14 stationery sets for people at school, and a scrapbook. Now, I need to make three or four greeting cards, and I think I'm good for a bit.
This evening, before the show, we had our vocal warm-up and our director addressed us as he does before every performance. He passed out discs with the promised pictures that had been taken by the photographer on our final dress rehearsal evening.
Most of the pictures were great. The colors were brilliant, and there were often moments of such clarity that they jumped right off the screen. I could hear the songs, bursting from the actors' mouths. I could see the quick dance steps, and feel the hot stage lights on my skin.
I, however, was in none of those shots. Almost every picture of me is terrible. Now, I am my own worst critic -- and I'll be the first to tell you that. I often don't like pictures of myself. I find it an exhausting and demoralizing experience, this taking of pictures. The light is harsh and unforgiving, the artificiality of all the props and backdrops make the whole thing seem pointless and juvenile.
But this -- this was something else entirely. I know I'm fat. I know it in the way that I know I'm female, or that I know I breathe air. I know it the way I know the curve of my daughter's cheek, or the feel of my husband's warm palm nestled within mine. But, there is a big difference in knowing it, and truly grasping it. I grasped it tonight. I was appalled at how bad I look. I am huge.
God, how it hurts to say that. To know that. To see, with my own eyes how much larger I am than everyone else out there. To see the rolls of fat even under my costume, even at a distance. To know that, while under those hot stage lights that are so unforgiving. My multitude of sins there on stage with the rest of us. Taking up so much room; the silent participant.
I lay in bed tonight, tears rolling down my face as I remember the pictures that I saw earlier. Is that how other people see me? Is that really the way I look to them? How I burn with shame to know why people look at me the way they do. To finally, irrevocably, get it. How shameful it is to feel so bad, to look so bad.
I had this mental image of me, and what I feel like inside my own mind does not match up with what I see on the screen. Have I been lying to myself all this time? Has it all been one long self-delusion of massive proportions? How could I let this happen? How can anyone love this?