I am a person that freely hands out compliments. I guess I feel it is part of being nice and polite. When I am on the receiving end, it simply blows me away. There are times when I read the comments for the blogs I have written and am particularly moved when someone compliments me on my story or my writing. I am usually so moved; I have tears in my eyes.
Most of the time, I am apt not to believe people. The bad stuff is easier to believe. I have often wondered why compliments are so easy to hand out but so difficult to take in. Maybe it is because deep down we simply don’t believe anything good about ourselves. That is kind of depressing when you think about it, isn’t it?
Yesterday morning I visited my doctor for a monthly check up. He has had me on a diet to lose weight, strengthen my heart, and get healthy. Usually the waiting room is chock full of people, but yesterday it was empty except for me. I imagined that everyone was either at work or out voting. To my surprise my doctor emerged with my file in hand, smiled a smile that lit up his face, and said “Kathy! Hello! Come on back!” I quickly replaced my bookmark in my book, grabbed my purse, and hurried to follow him after I picked my jaw up off the floor. We passed his staff who were congregated in a close knit circle visiting amongst themselves as we went on to the exam room.
My blood pressure was good. He listened to my heart…still ticking and sounding good. Then it was time for me to step on the scale. To my disappointment, I had gained a pound. Crestfallen I went back to my seat. Damn! I was sure I had lost weight! Instead I had gained a pound. He patted my hand and reassured me that I was doing a fabulous job sticking to my diet. I probably hadn’t gone to the bathroom before I came. What??? My brain slammed in my head. I swear to sunny Je$us I had went. I had peed numerous times and went number 2 as well. What the hell? Should I have given myself an enema and endured a rousing bout of the $hits before I dared step on the scale? Of course I kept all these brilliant revelations to myself.
He watched me with a twinkle in his eye as I explained that I had watched my diet the very best I could. But hells bells, Halloween had happened. Hadn’t he noticed that? My husband was home!! He always is urging me to cheat on my diet. Surely a little piece of candy can’t hurt. Here have some breakfast sausages. They are so good!! Well yes, that is not the bloody point! The point is that Three Musketeer candy bars and maple flavored sausages are no where on my diet sheet. That is the bloody point!! It was at that point that I realized that I had spoken all this aloud. Embarrassed, I giggled a bit as I am prone to do.
“It is not like a snack size Three Musketeer candy bar and a couple sausage links will kill me, right?” My doctor assured me that as long as I followed my diet most of the time, a slip here and there wouldn’t kill me. “It is only a pound.” he said with a smile. “You are doing fine! I am so proud of you and how you are taking control of your life!” “If only I could exercise maybe I could actually lose more!” I lamented. It was then that the doctor gave me the proverbial golden key to the crapper. I could exercise. Yes indeed. He encouraged me to march over to the local mall at least three times a week and walk at least a mile, and increase the distance from there. The biggie was that I didn’t walk outside because the November cold air would do me in. My mind rejoiced in the possibility of having an excuse to rush to the mall on a regular basis. I have a pedometer. I can do this!! Who cares that I never have money to BUY anything? It is free to look, and that is good enough for me!! I HAVE to go for my health!! YAY!
It was then that he shocked me again. Out of the blue he told me “ You write very well. You should write a book!” The doctor had managed to shock me twice in the same day. Where did that come from? Even though yes, I do write, it never occurred to me that he of all people would have read any of it or that he knew that I write, let alone think that I was capable of writing a book anyone would ever want to read. I am not a person that blows her own horn. I am blown away by compliments. For some reason I have never felt I deserved them, but I am grateful and cherish each and every one like a precious gift. What can I say? If you give me a compliment, I like it until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
Even though I would like nothing better than to write some brilliant story that not only inspires but forces the reader to laugh out loud and eventually pi$$ their pants in their mirth, I find myself facing writer’s block the size of Mt. Everest. I have found that the latest BFF challenge requires a short story of 300 words or less has me frazzled. Am I capable of writing a story with a conflict and a resolution?? Let’s just say, I gave it the college try and it is up to all that read it whether it sucks or not.
The day didn’t start well. Not only was there pouring rain to greet me when I woke this morning, I discovered the whole bag of dog food had been dumped on the floor. If cleaning up that mess wasn’t enough to jar me wide awake, then gazing outside where a magnificent snowman the kids and I had built the day before had stood, reduced to only it’s bottom ball with the hot red pepper nose and sea shell eyes in a puddle at its base certainly was.
As if things couldn’t get worse, my son woke up sick to his stomach, tired, and looking the color of fresh lettuce. Ugh. No rest for the wicked. All that wonderful, inspirational writing I had planned for and had actually prayed for disappeared like a fart in the wind.
Here I am hour’s later writing about my puddle of a snowman. Honestly, how pathetic is that?? Amazing what can inspire a person. It only shows the downward spiral my day is destined to take. It’s not all bad. There is that one on one alone time with my son wrapped up in blankets watching Disney movies on the couch. There is the fact that the child sized Lightning McQueen sleeping bag my son has zipped around me actually has room in it. Wonders of wonders it fits looser than a stuffed sausage. I don’t even think my kid will have to grease my carcass up to get me out of it which is amazing in itself. We take turns feeling cold like some desperate dance. His tummy hurts, and then my tummy hurts. He is freezing, and then I am freezing. He’s hot; I’m cold and vice versa. We trade headaches and symptoms like cards in an endless game.
I imagine Bob Harper scaring the fat off my a$$ like he does the countless contestants on theBiggest Loser, and even that doesn’t bring a smile. I wish our snowman had magically taken my big a$$ with him when he packed up his balls and left in the night. I would never get it so easy. Sending a nasty memo to my a$$ wouldn’t have the desired effect either. G0d knows there are some days I wish it would cop an attitude and be gone. Pity that there is sweating, work, and a G0d awful diet involved in the quest for weight loss. All that trusty snowman had to do was hydrate himself with a little water from the heavens and he was able to kiss his big happy a$$ goodbye. Where is the fairness in that?? If I didn’t know better, I might be convinced I was at the edge of the depths of despair staring into the abyss hoping against hope that any of this mindless dribble is golden. Writer's block may be best handled by the same theory used in the "Field of Dreams". If I write it, it will come!
My mind is rambling, the wind chimes tinkling in the wind, and I continue to write attempting to find my groove. Have I found it?? Hell if I should know. I did write something. Whether it was worth a look see is entirely up to you, the curious reader. Rest assured I am still three sandwiches short of the picnic basket that has been forever lost. Even worse, I’m not even sure I ever had a picnic basket in the first place. Yogi Bear would be so disgusted. Bless you for stopping in to check out the latest rambling about the life of a trucker’s wife.
