I flaunt my uniqueness. I say that I "flaunt" it, but when the BFF dared me to post about it, I did cringe a little. But I have this awful habit. If someone dares me to do something.... (Other than anything involving my phobias!)
So here goes:
Food: I don't like to eat in public. I will though. Of course, I will. Now that I am on prednisone, I'll sit at Queen Elizabeth's table and take food off Philip's plate. Are you kidding me? That's now. I'm less shy now, but when I was a teenager, I'd starve before I'd let anyone out of my close circle see me chewing. (I don't know why, except I read once where a rich chick said, no one looks good chewing or - I don't know what else, maybe she said blinking or something? shrug.)
Relaxation: I will sometimes sleep "ready-roll." That means in my clothes, not in anticipation of fire. My mother hated this when I was younger. She'd sometimes come and wake me up at a crazy hour of the night just to make me put on pajamas. My father didn't think it was all that bad. He'd tell my mom that I was saving her time on laundry. (I have this habit because I always go to sleep either reading, writing or watching TV. Unless I get to have sex. Then the Vicky Secret stuff comes out and goes on full parade. Before I got this fat, I sometimes wore cute stuff to bed just to feel cute. But since I'm fat and separated, no sex. No sex, no reason not to read myself to sleep. It's all good.)
Style: I will cut or dye my hair on a whim. I have no problem doing something strange to my hair because it's the one thing that always came back or could be purchased. Once, I asked a stylist to cut my hair so drastically short that she spent a couple hours trying to talk me out of it. As she put the razor to my nape, she was saying, "Are you absolutely sure?" Then there was the time I dyed my hair with some kind of streaking kit. I was in Texas and it was full-on summer. Between the dye kit and that sun, I looked like that crazy-assed demon spawn that is Nicki Minaj. Don't know who this fool is?
|this is a relatively "normal" look for Miss Crazy|
Keep in mind that I'm a tad bit more, shall we say chocolate-toned than she is. I'm saner, but darker.
Yeah. So. Moving along...
Mood: It doesn't take much to make me laugh, cry or get really, really pissed off. At Mach 10. (I'd like to blame this on Sarc or meds or hormones, but...) I have what one of my brothers calls a "mercurial" personality. In other words, I can be kind of a sweetheart, a softy or a bitch - with a short time lapse rotation. Usually, you can take a couple of deep breathes in between my mood changes. ("Mercurial." Hmph.) I prefer to think that I am just kind of sensitive and misunderstood & I think that my medical condition does make things worse. However, when I say this to my sister or any of the BFFs, they just kind of go, "Uh... yeah. All right." (I'll get some phone calls the minute I publish this post, watch.)
People: I'm very quick to either like or dislike someone. I think I have good judgement about people. I always pick up on a "vibe" when I meet people. Usually, I am right, but I have, at times, been really, really wrong. Not often. (I absolutely loathed a woman who is now one of the BFFs, and let's not forget that I married the Permian Basin Pycho.) And I'm the kind that I make the people I like a part of my life forever. Good people are not disposable.
Fantasy Life: (This one is really the most embarrassing.) I once wrote a liar-letter to Michael Jackson so that he'd want to meet me. I was about 13 or 14 and I wrote a fan letter lying about how I was really sick and all I'd ever wanted was to meet him. How freaking manipulative is that? And it's not even very creative, shame on me. (Good thing they didn't have Make A Wish back then or I'd've have done something really pathetic like shave my head and pretend to have leukemia or something.) By the way, I got busted. The letter came back as "Undeliverable" because of a bad address or something. My mother found out what I did. I got my ass whipped with a switch she made me pick from the front yard and I was grounded for a couple weeks. (I think she even outed me in church, but I can't remember for sure.)
Another weirdity involving Mr. Jackson: I told people who didn't know our family well that I was related to the Jackson Five. My mother's maiden name helped with that little lie. I got away with this for most of my Middle School years. I don't know why people didn't wonder why, if I had such famous relatives, we didn't exactly live the lifestyle.
(I'm thinking about all this now and wonder why I was such a little tale-teller when I was young? Damn. I was like a politician under oath!)
You know what? I don't even want to play this game anymore. This thinking about things I've done makes me pretty sure I need to go and pray. Right now.