Some of my favorite bloggers posted recently what they are not. They both happen to be interesting authentic women who are in the ‘must read’ section of my reader for a reason. Go check them out.
I am not the tidiest person. My house will be presentable when people arrive (unless I consider you family, in which case I am liable to throw the tea towel at you to wipe while I wash) but my kitchen bench is my achillies heel. Well that and the kitchen sink (I tried to have it shined every night before bed last year… didn’t work for me) and the laundry. Oh, and the baby toys. AND our shoes tossed in a messy heap by the door. You get the picture.
I am not a trend whore. You will see classic cuts, plenty of jeans (I own about 6 pairs and wear 3 pretty much every week), jackets, t-shirts and blouses, dresses, almost everything A-line and empire wasted in my closet. A million scarves, too. I love scarves. You won’t find any hoodies, ‘fierce’ shoes, neon, shoulder pads, miniskirts/dresses.
I am not afraid of speaking up. Sometimes, more so these days than before, I bite my tongue. Not because I am afraid of confrontation. Few people do confrontation as well as I do. I know I will be fine. I just hate the fall-out, the moodiness, the cold shoulder, the bullshit.
I am not a fan of antipasto or beer. Olives and capers and beer. YUCK! The thought of these, let alone the smell is enough to turn my stomach. Needless to say these are 3 of my husband’s favourite things.
I am not at peace with the idea of being married. I know, I know. I am crazy. An idealist and a feminist to a fault. I get it. But still my inner suffragette and my inner rebel still hate the idea. I’ll let you know when they quieten. I’m not holding my breath though.
I am not scared of ugliness. Not scared of mine. Not scared of yours. I’m not afraid of people discovering the black muck that lurks in the corners of my psyche. It is one of the best ice breakers and the quickest way to a deep and meaningful discussion – my favourite kind.
Despite living spitting distance from the beach, I am not a beach goddess. I never had the body for it and I hate the sand getting everywhere it doesn’t belong. Namely inside my swimming costume. I hate it when the sand is so hot it burns and yet i can’t stand it when it gets chilly or a wind blows sand on my towel. On the other hand give me the mountains any day. Mountain air fills my lungs and unlocks my soul.
I am not the jealous type. Never have been. If who I am and how I make him feel isn’t enough to keep him, then he is free to leave. If he finds a woman better at supporting his dreams and his schedule, similarly, I will be throwing rice at the wedding. I point out beautiful women I know he will appreciate. I am not insecure about him talking to other women in a bar. I don’t envy other women. I know from seeing clients that the most successful, beautiful, driven women have demons big enough to balance out the bliss in their lives.
I am not against cooking every day. I actually aspire to cook something, anything, every single day. I feel connected to the people I love and the circle of life when I am lovingly preparing a meal for them from fresh ingredients. I don’t use packet mixes, boxed cake mix or sauces in a jar. They have their place, but I have the time and inclination to make my own. I could never, ever go back to chocolate topping from a bottle.
As I am typing my husband and son and throwing their 2 cents worth at me, so this could clearly become an essay or a series lol. But I think this is enough.
What at you not?
