THE QUANDARY OF THE PRIVATE PERSON

I'm not sure when it began.

Maybe it was when i was just a wee bairn, hanging with my cousin. She was (and still is lol) a year my junior. At the time we were inseparable, we wanted to do everything together. She was my first bff. When i was around 7, I noticed that because she was the more gregarious engaging one, people paid more attention to her. They laughed at her jokes, and in general, were awestruck by her presence. (yes we were kids and yes "they" were adults.) I didn't mind being the "oh... she's so quiet!" one because i loved my cousin dearly. But i couldn't help feel the shadow that descended upon me whenever we were together, and in the presence of others.

Maybe it was in elementary school, where i noticed that my perceived shyness was not an asset, but a detriment, and being *just* a good student would never win any hearts. Being quiet and respectful doesn't get you chalkboard washing privileges. (i don't know about yall but washing the blackboard was like *that* back in the day)

Maybe it was when i hit puberty and the combination of my natural reticence coupled with the woes of hormonal changes wreaked havoc on me. I felt clumsy, looked clumsy, and my retiring personality retired even more. I shrank inside myself because i was uncomfortable being in the forefront of anything.

Maybe it was a combination of all three experiences.

Whenever it started, the fact remains that along the way i became an extremely private person. While i have grown beyond my shrinking violet stage, I still find it hard to share "myself" with most people. Initially I was being reactionary. My experiences as a child and young adult had led me to believe that unless you are outgoing and vivacious, people are not interested in what you say, think or feel. Its so very easy to tune out the quiet voice of the girl (or boy) in the corner. What attracts more attention, the rooster or the peacock? I was always the rooster. Er, uh hen. But eventually, what was once reactionary was hard wired in my psyche. I found it easier to work out problems - big or small - by myself. My ruminations were just that, mine. I was always a thinker, but now i was a rampant self-effacer.

As a direct cause of being not listened to - i became a listener. Advice was never my strong point, but what i lacked in practical counsel, i made up for in my ear, and mental time. I was a confidante. A role i didn't mind, I felt honored that my friends felt comfortable enough with me to talk about things. Not because I was nosy (well maybe a little, don't judge me!) but because I genuinely care(d). On a deeper level, I think I found solace in being the listening ear that I never had the pleasure of experiencing. And because i never was the gossipy type, they could rest assured that whatever was told to me would remain between us. (vault baby!) On my end there was something empowering (ugh did i just type that? lol) about providing that safe haven for the for the talker.

But something has gone awry. People have begun to (erroneously) assume that because I don't talk about myself much, that its really because there is nothing to talk about. The white-bread-vanilla-pudding-friend with nothing going on beyond the facade. Slowly surely i have been reduced from a confidante to a sounding board - an echo chamber for the thoughts and feelings of (some)friends. I've relegated to a passive role in the conversation, and once the talker is done emoting... well, wham, bam thank you ma'am. Oh i can't finish too?

In theory i shouldn't mind i suppose, because, well, i'd really rather NOT discuss my personal stuff. With most folks anyway. BUT (and this is a big ol booty) at the same time, i'd like to know that i'm more than just a receptacle for vents, and that people actually care about what is going on with me. (even though its hard to get it out.) I mean when the people i listen to outweigh the people who listen? Houston, we have a problem.

I understand its partially my "fault". I don't give up much, so I can't be (too) mad if folks think of that as the status quo.

I remember a friend of mine telling me that it seemed I had everything together. this was met with an O_O on my part, because I am a delicious mess most of the time. But anyway, if he thought that... maybe others do too? Like maybe when you ask me how i'm doing you really don't need to wait for the answer because the assumption is that i am always doing fine?

But it really hit me that some folks view me as no more than a vessel for venting when talking to my homegirl last night. Now, she's the type that is always is in the midst of a "situation". Every situation is pressing and full of daytime drama. Work, men, money... you name it. She puts the giiiirl in girlfriend. Well last night,we weren't really talking about anything of import and my heart was kind of heavy. It was one of those rare occasions I felt like sharing. I mean shoot. I got situations too.

I started to dish.

Funny thing happened. Within a few minutes (and some mmhmms uh huhs forreals?) the convo got turned back on her. And not because she was going to assist me by relaying a related story. No. She was talking about herself.

What's worse? I automatically assumed the position of therapist/listener - because that is what I always do. I had easily slipped into my defacto role.

Inside though, I was heated. Like pissed. The one time i decide to be candid and you are so self absorbed you don't even realize?? Lemme tell you. It takes a lot to get me mad, but when this sister gets hot... boy how she sizzles. (plus five if you source that one) A few times i tried to steer the conversation back, but she was like Safe lite glass ® and my thought pebbles just bounced off of her.

...

Brutal, brutal simile i know. Forgive me.

It called to mind when i was 14 years old. I had this terrible terrible crush, and the dude called me. His lead off to our conversation? "I was bored and i decided to call you..." Now i was 14 at the time and he was 16 and i was smitten beyond words so the fact that i was his last ditch effort from dying of boredom didn't really phase me. But looking back? I'm like WTF? That was some rude slimy isht. Almost as bad as you calling someone and they telling YOU that they are gonna "let you go". LOL. But yeah, at the time, I was just ecstatic that he called. Of course that wouldn't fly today - "take your boredom thattaway!" But the common thread between both these incidents is that in both, my feelings were taken as of little consequence.

Fortunately the conversation with my homegirl was cut short by another call i had to take. One that was much more fulfilling, might i add. But i felt unsettled for the rest of the night.

Am i that unremarkable?

Of course the answer is no. Not to get all cee-lo and his perfect imperfections on you, but really, all of us are remarkable and worthy. Deep down i know that. I mean its not even deep down. Its a trueism that my mother has instilled in me since day one. I refuse to let cavalier treatment of me effect my self worth.

But i'd be lying if i said it didn't hurt.

Stevie Wonder - Superwoman (where were you when i needed you)

LIFE WOULD BE SWEET IF I COULD FIT SAMPLE SIZES

Fashion is not for the faint of heart.

(warning: this is one of *those* entries. girlie, harangue-ey and shamelessly lacking substance. You know the routine, read or click the x. Its up to you.)

you'd think that something as trivial as buying clothes would be easy to do right? its not. its an agony to itself, peculiar to women (and an assortment of beau brummells) and should only be attempted when sound of mind, physically confident, and not retaining water. At the moment, im totally neither. In fact i'd venture that the allies had an easier time setting the terms of the treaty of versailles then i have been having shopping for new threads. My punishment for flouting the rules.

As you may not know, my grandparents 60th anniversary is on the horizon. In celebration of this momentous occasion, their children have conspired to throw what is turning out to be a gala event. (i could have said party but gala sounds much more festive wouldn't you agree?)

for the last month I have been dress shopping in preparation for this affair. its been a month of utter disappointment, aggravation, and exasperation. Iced with a dollop of despair. A result of me not being able to find anything to wear.

what fits on top doesn't fit on the bottom.

what fits on the bottom doesn't fit on the top.

it makes me look fat.

it makes me look old.

its too "styled."

its too long.

its too short.

its too revealing(not trying to have cougars see all that titty)

ITS TOO MUCH!

This all bears out the idiocy of procrastination. I knew about this event for months, yea, over a year, and still i waited until the last minute to find something decent to wear. The pressure is high, and if i am being honest, more than a little self imposed. If i had gotten the outfit together before now i wouldn't be having this problem.

On top of everything else i seem to have a latent dromedary gene. Whats that you say? Well I get rid of/minimize fat in one location only to have it appear somewhere else. My lovely lady lumps are no more than fat conduits."Oooh baby, My lipid game is tight!" Is my rallying cry, but really no matter how much i spin it, its still a revolting development. (I'm not sure which of my antecedents i have to thank for this affliction, though i have my suspicions.) While i'm sure this "advantage" would be beneficial in the sahara, its not what's up in the mid atlantic.

Dress code is formal and so far I have found nothing I like that would also be flattering on me. I'm going for a sleek simple look, and the gowns that I find absolutely stunning are those that would look perfect...on a 5'9 120lb woman. I'm 5'3 and my proportions are...dubious. At best. I have um...lots of extra-curricular activities about my person, and as much as I love shopping, its an exercise that brings all my insecurities to the fore. Its as excruciating as it is enjoyable. I mean really, there are so many insecurities to explore and exploit! like how grizzled i look under unforgiving fluorescent lights. Or how my my thighs are "whey" gross. Or why my upper arms are so flabby. The humiliating experience of the rheumy eyed jewish lady, aromatic with the fragrance of shalamar, coming in the dressing room and asking me if everything was ok, and did i need to her to get me a size up? At this last indecency its was a wonder that I didn't run out of Saks, singletary-eyed and screaming like a banshee.

Of course I could wear something I already have, but what's the fun in that? The "ing" in shopping stands for acquiring you know. Why scorn an opportunity to build up my wardrobe? Besides its a pretty big deal this anniversary. There will be attendees from here(where they lived for 40 years) and SC, where they live currently. On such a stage who wants to look fug?

you see I have lots of excuses for buying something new, i just don't have the cojones to face the reality that is me when it come to putting this stuff on. Its like everything blows up in the time it takes to get from my house to the store. I leave my home a size six and arrive at my destination a size sixteen! Then i look in the dressing room mirror, and my reflection is all "why bother?" Bulges heretofore unseen, eroding what what was left of my confidence. Its a cruel world, an unforgiving world. A world that can only to be weathered with mood lighting and foundation garments.

?mark asylum - Hey look away ( the swan song of the fug :P)