I admit it: I’m not gorgeous! — I mean I’m far from being considered a model, my tummy isn’t exactly flat any longer, although it was when I was younger; even with the scare I’ve had since I was nineteen, when an unskilled surgeon gave me a bikini cut during surgery that turned out badly, my tummy was f-l-a-t — well, until after fifty when it began to plump itself up, bless its little heart. Oh, age — stay at bay a little longer, will ya!
I have curves, and honestly more fat than I should. I’m not as tall as I would like but this is the package I come in, surely shorter and plumper than bargained for with God, the Father before my arrival here on Mother Earth. But, having faith in my Father to have done me justice, I willing accept what I am when I stand in front of any full length mirror: I am a five foot four-inch chubby older woman with hair more white than gray these days. A woman, I might add, with a history, some good — some, shall we say, not so good.
At random I can be a little crazy (usually over politics) but as always I never pretend to be someone I am not. I am, in all honesty, honest to who I am. I am loved by many and I dare say not loved by a few but I wouldn’t change myself for all the tea in China to be loved by all.
If you love me I accept your love with open hands and heart and count you as my blessing, a blessing bestowed on me by God, the Father. I return your love, magnified many times over, back to you and hope I am a blessing to you, as well. I tell you that I love you from the deepest part of my human body; from deep within my bone marrow love seeps up into my heart and out to you.
I make no apologies for the way I am, the way I love, the way I talk, walk and eat!
I’m saying this because at one time in my life — when I was young and had not learned better — I changed to be more agreeable to another person, so that person might love me better, might approve of me more. But, what happened is not that another loved me better or more, accepted me better or more but that I did not love or accept myself better or more. So I stopped! I did not agree to be agreeable; I spread my wings and fluttered away into a better life. My life. And, all things said, it has been a satisfying life.
So when, I reached for the hand of someone with whom I wanted to be with, for time and all eternity, I felt blessed, but when I found his approval of me lacking due to ‘this and that’ which did not match perfectly the image he’d concocted of me my entire body recoiled, as it did in my late twenties, at the thought of any adjustment by me to be more agreeable to his dream of who he wished me to be, which is, sad to say, quite removed from who actually I am.
“Are you seriously not going to like me because I choose to continue going to a church I’ve belonged to for fifty years? And are you seriously not going to stay in love with me because you think I may talk to southern? And are you seriously not going to like or love me because — because of ‘ this or that’ which avoids perfect match to your vision of who you wish me to be — because if this is the case then you will never like me nor will you ever love me because you are not allowing yourself to like or love me!” Is it possible that your dreamy thoughts of me collided with reality and when it did collide you went into shock? If this is the case then my dear fellow, you do not love me but your vision of who you wish me to be is what/who you fell in love with, and this is not love. You know, the old saying: I went to bed with >>>> and woke up with >>>>, oh! the shock! I think you should not remain in such a shocking state of affairs, my Someone. Nor should I endure your disapproval rating least I become “agreeable” again. I’ll save us both the trauma of a sulfurous outcome.
And I do dearly love this man of whom I’m speaking. He is wonderful. I tell you, I want him! But, alas my readers, although to me he is wonderful, I am wonderful as well; should I become ‘agreeable’ then shan’t I be less and not more of me? In the long end of things: how appealing would that be? I think it would lack endurance and fall flat upon itself.
After all is it not true that there is only one to whom I shall be given to please, that being God, the Father? All others come after pleasing him, then me! And lucky you are to be pleased, if it becomes true that I please you.
It has been said that a person is skid-dish of change unless that change is an improvement to them. I strongly suspect, and have suspected for some time, that to change ones habits on any score one must have a replacement habit that is far better than their current habit or the change will not have endurance, it will not last. When I changed myself to be more agreeable to what my first husband wanted, that change was for not! It did not take hold because it was not better for me. In that attempt to please, to be agreeable, he lost out in knowing me, what a pity that was. Whether it is a new home, a new job, or a new relationship the replacement must be better in some way. If the new idea (whatever that may be, new home, new hobby, new relationship) isn’t any better than what is now or has been, why would one want to change anything? Especially, when dealing with a new relationship.
So, the question at hand I needed to ask myself, when coming to grips with my Someone and his seemingly endless roller-coaster ride he was giving me, was a simple one. “Why is the ‘vision of me’ so important to him and why does he back off when ‘reality hits’ instead of embracing that reality? After all, if his words are true, he’d want to know “the real me” wouldn’t he? He’d be happy to learn all things: silly and stupid, happy and sad, highs and lows, and so forth. So why was he backing off, coming back, backing off again after saying he saw me in his future, after saying he loves me to the depth of his being? I asked. I pondered. I did not like any of the answers I came up with. None of them were very appealing. The first was that he was a flake, you know the guy, right, Mr. Flake says what sounds good to get to the base after which he leaves. But, it was a long distance thing so no bases were won so I 86-ed that first answer…the second answer I came up with was that he wasn’t who he was telling me he was at all, he was an impostor! My mind went into overdrive about who he might actually be! Oh, my goodness, he’s an inmate locked up with computer privileges every other Thursday and he’s pulling my chain, soon he’ll ask for money! But, then I knew better here too. The third answer is the most disturbing one, he is married! Looking back it all added up, stacked up like a load of bricks laid true to every angle, leaving no wobbles; sure, true, straight. The third one won out! OH My Goodness, he is married. He has to be and he’s been lying to me all this time. I mean, truly it all added up. When the telephone calls came in. When the emails were sent. Everything! Was I a dunce or what? Apparently, I’m not willing to be a dunce for long . . . for
this is when my inquiring mind kicked into action…my inquiring mind and the Internet. God, the Father must have known, before I ever dropped into Mother Earth, I’d have real need of the Internet so He Created souls to do this for me! Awesome! Anyway, having been a researcher extraordinaire for real (Uncle Sam’s shall know all there is to know, or my name isn’t >>>) before I decided to have a life where kids (mine) were involved, I kicked into gear and began to check ‘him’ out. Sure enough, I was right. He’d been lying, he is married, and my heat broke into a million pieces and each time he called me I cried. I wept tears too often until I didn’t cry any more. That’s the way it goes, I guess. So, I have had my heart-broken. A life is not lived well until you have your heart-broken, at least once! Then I got a dog!
Why am I telling you kind folks this? Mainly, because before you say “I told you so” I can say it to you first in total transparency, as promised and somehow save some sort of face here! After having promised to make these Memoirs truthful and accurate I should not leave this out. I have to admit to failing myself but I am happy to love, even love still, someone whom — all things said and written — receives my love willingly and without reservations. The remaining questions is: will I end my time on Mother Earth having this love be my last experience with knowing the sweetness of falling in love with a man?
I know one thing for sure and for certain, the Internet and I are quite friendly these days so I have doubts this will only happen to me once in my lifetime.