It's amazing how dancing can make you feel just a little bit younger. Tonight we went to the dinner at the church and afterward they had a DJ come and play so that everyone could dance. It was SO incredibly corny and fun. I had the time of my life. The Electric Slide is incredibly old, but it's one of those dances that everyone knows. Nobody remembers how they learned it, all they know is that it is ingrained in their minds and bodies. =)
Rayne isn't really the dancing kind. I have been trying for weeks to convince him to take dancing lessons with me. We took swing lessons a while back (separately, before we knew each other) and even he had to admit it was great fun. This time I want to learn line dancing and he is shying away from it like a hermit! He's got that country music prejudice that most teenage boys have. I guess he hasn't outgrown that yet. Oh well.
I guess it's time for bed.
Okay, we're home again and I have to admit that I had a great time. It reminded me of when I was a teenager. It doesn't seem all that long ago until think about the fact that I am about 10-15 years older than most of them. I don't FEEL that old. I wonder if I look like it. I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm deliriously glad that that time in my life is over and done with. It just occurred to me that Rayne (my husband) is closer in age to those kids than he is to me. He is eight years younger than me. Usually it doesn't even cross my mind, but every once in a while I get a revelation and am stunned by the difference.
Last night while reading another Geneen Roth book I decided that she's right, you know. I eat because I feel a lack of love. It never came from home. Most people have problems that their parents are responsible for causing, but I had the best home life when I was growing up. My problems started in the second grade when I suddenly realized that I was different from everyone else. I look back at my class pictures and see a sea of smiling little brown faces, these short, cute little children... and then there's me. Always at the back, always at the end. I am at least a head taller than all of the other kids and I am pale and freckled. Around the second grade I remember the taunts starting... "Whitey," "Creature from the white lagoon," "Ugly, ugly freckle face," "Jolly white giant," I could go on and on. Suddenly I was different. I hated going to school then. I always got great grades, but the thought of facing the other kids every day made me sick to my stomach. My hands started breaking out in little tiny blisters that itched. The doctor said it was from stress. I started to uncontrollably pull my hair out. It's called trichotillomania and the doctor said it was from stress. And worst of all, I started to gain weight. I don't think anyone even considered whether or not THAT was from stress. My parents ignored it, telling me I was beautiful. The doctor never even commented on it. Is that weird? I guess I had too many other problems for him to worry about. Over the years I learned to cope with my stress well enough to supress the itching blisters and the trichotillomania, but to do that I relied heavily on my best friend, my confidant, my therapist and love... Food. Food was so good to me. It helped me forget the teasing and the fact that I had horrid hands and patches of hair missing. It made me think only of the comfort I was getting from it's sweet, kind embrace. I loved food. It was the only thing that made it possible for me to make it through my childhood and teen years. After that I moved away from my forsaken birthplace and moved where there were more people like me. Tall and pale, some even had freckles. And suddenly everyone liked me. No one teased me because was white or tall or different. And I didn't need my old friend food anymore. I was overweight, of course. I couldn't have comforted myself for all those years without gaining insurmountable amounts of weight. But then it just started coming off. When I was upset or lonely or sad I would go back to my old friend food, but that wasn't very often. I was happy and my weight went down and stablized at something normal. Who would have imagined that???
Unfortunately I am back at the place I was born and raised. Circumstances dictated that I come back. I will be here for three years. I thought for a while that things would be different, that now that I was grown and married I would be able to handle the pressures that arose. I thought that I had maybe even exaggerated the difficulty I had had growing up. But when I got back here I realized that nothing had changed. I hate it here. I am still the outcast. I got into an argument in the grocery store the other day. I was standing in line at the checkout and this woman came and pushed her way in front of me, as if I wasn't even there!!! I was shocked. As an adult, no one had ever been so openly rude to me before. I said, "Excuse me, " and she ignored me. I said, "Excuse me, I was in line before you." And she turned and sneered at me and said, "I don't think so. You go after me." What were my choices at that point? I didn't want to cause a scene. So I went to another line. When I looked over at her after that she smiled at me and stepped out of line and went back to shopping!!! I went home and cried so hard my husband couldn't understand what I was saying. I hate this place. Nothing has changed. I have been here for three months and have become a professional recluse and have gained 20 pounds. The only place I find friendship and solace is at church. They are the people I grew up with and they love me, just like my family does.
Where was I going with this. I'm too tired to think about it anymore. I think I'll go back to bed and hide.
Woke up at nine o'clock this morning and wondered if life gets any better than this! It's the one day that we are both home with no obligations. Well, no REAL obligations anyway. The youth at the church are holding a car wash for donations of unperishables to give to needy families around Thanksgiving. Such nice, thoughtful kids. We are taking canned cranberry sauce and boxed stuffing and potatoes, canned corn and green beans, jars of gravy, pie crust mix, pumpkin pie mix, and the always needed evaporated milk and cream of mushroom soup. The church will donate turkeys. I love Thanksgiving so much! When I was little my family was one of the needy families and I remember how grateful my parents were when people brought us Thanksgiving dinner. She had been making a chicken. And we had potato salad. I can still remember her face when they brought us everything. That was over twenty years ago. Now my parents are well off and are the ones giving heartily to the community. What goes around, comes around, they say. Usually people say that as a warning, but I believe it works in the good ways, too.
Well, the big guy is up, so I guess we are headed off to the car wash.
I thought this was going to be a good idea, but my calico is eyeing the keyboard so I may be interrupted any second now. One of the hazards of having cats that have the run of the house... before long they think (know?) that they own you and not the other way around.
Today has been rainy and cold, exactly the kind of day I like. I wanted to spend the entire day curled up on my bed with a book and maybe some cholcolate, but life had other ideas. I am currently unemployed and today I started to feel guilty that I have only half heartedly been looking for work since we moved here. So I went looking for work. I got very wet and first my hair went limp and then it frizzed out and took on that unappealing white-person-afro look. What was I thinking when I cut my hair this short anyway??? After about three hours I decided that no one was going to hire me looking like that anyway, so I went home and threw some sweats on and tamed the wild hair. So much for the job hunt. It can wait until Monday, I guess.
Sometimes when I have a hard time sleeping I think about what it would be like to have enough money and not have to work anymore. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to be rich. I don't want anything lavish or decadent, just enough to get by. I'd like to have enough money that I could say, "Screw this, it's a lovely dark day and I am going to spend it in bed with my husband." Instead he trudges off at the break of dawn, headed for school and his part time job, and I look forward to yet another day of rejection by prospective employers. I know that this is the time in our lives that we have to suffer through in order to get to the good stuff, but I'd prefer if we could skip the learning experience and go straight to the enjoyment part. I guess all this proves is that I am selfish and lazy. *sigh*
I got a letter from Trina yesterday. It was a surprise. For a while there I wondered if I was ever going to hear from her again. There is something about her that I just love, you know? I guess in a lot of ways she reminds me of me, except that she is younger and further on in her life than I was when I was her age. Sometimes I wonder if part of what draws me to her is that she was my husband's first love. I don't mean to say that it bothers me at all, I guess I am just a little intrigued by her because of it. I think sometimes about what it was he loved about her. And I understand. She is a beautiful and amazing person. My sister-in-law often teases me (not so kindly sometimes) about my friendship with Trina. I don't see why we shouldn't be friends. We get along well and she has found love and happiness in her life. She and my husband remain friends... Christmas card type friends. He laughs at the fact that she and I are friends, but he never asks for details on how she is doing. I'm secure in his love. And I am glad for her friendship.
Wow. I have babbled on quite a bit tonight. Time for some reading and meditation.