How NOT to Talk to Women

Originally posted two years ago on an old blog, I had to repost this one when it popped up in my Facebook memories today and made me laugh...

How NOT to Talk to Women

18.5 years of marriage warrants a few lessons learned, yes? My favorite color, how I don’t like cheese, my abhorrence for camping...random things. You might even believe 18.5 years brought an understanding, albeit small, of how NOT to talk to me. Let me explain.

Correct way: “Hey, would you mind throwing in a load of ______ for me?”

Incorrect way: “You planning to do laundry anytime soon?”

See the difference there? One expresses a need, asks in a non-condescending way, and isn't the least bit asinine. 

That brings us to the fodder for today’s lesson. Imagine, if you will, a three pound jar of rock sugar. This sugar is used exclusively for the over-priced loose leaf chai tea I order online (Seriously, it’s pretty fan-freaking-tastic). Imagine the jar, completely full, slipping from your grasp, catching the edge of the granite countertop, then slamming into your knee on the way down. Glass … EVERYWHERE … the precious rock sugar … EVERYWHERE … me standing in a pile of rock sugar littered with glass shards … me being sad. *sniff* 
Wes jumped up and said, “What happened? Are you okay?” THIS was an appropriate response. I would've later lavished him with praise had he JUST STOPPED RIGHT THERE!  But did he stop? No, he didn’t.

The next sentence went something like this, “You really shouldn’t use glass at all because you break things constantly.” 

Yep, that definitely negated the original two questions intimating concern and interest in my well-being. Gone. Nada. Zip. Open mouth, insert foot.
The next twenty minutes were spent explaining to this creature with the XY chromosomes why comforting someone does NOT, in fact, allow for statements of this nature. He made the mistake of asking the youngest child her opinion on the matter. THAT conversation went something like this:

Triumphantly, believing he will be victorious, he asks, “Katlyn, remember when you busted your eye open last year, and I came into school? Was I comforting?”

Katlyn, looking incredulous, says, “Um, NO! You told me that it looked like I was growing another eye, and that if we put a marble in it, I really would have a third eye.”

I’m afraid I was unable to contain my glee. I may have DID gloat a little. Fortunately, I think he’s cute, so I didn’t rub it in … too much.

Fast forward one week...

The Consequences For Lecturing Your Wife

Recall, if you will, the previous story involving the husband who wandered into the danger zone of How NOT To Talk To Women. To sum it up, broken jar, glass everywhere, precious rock sugar ruined, inability to drink wonderful chai… then husband with his foot in his mouth.

After the sad debacle in which I said goodbye to my rock sugar, and listened to my husband lecture me, I decided online therapy would heal my wounded soul. The sting from his unsympathetic judgment faded as I used his card to purchase the sugar along with more chai to make up the free shipping difference.

Thanks, Wesley … you should lecture me more often! I fancy some new shoes next!

"YOU Have A Tattoo?"

"YOU Have A Tattoo?"

Forget what you think you know about tattoos for just a minute...

"YOU have a tattoo?" I can't tell you how many times I've heard this question with an incredulous tone in the last fifteen years. Wait...FIFTEEN YEARS?  Yeah, that's right, I said FIFTEEN YEARS!  I had my first tattoo done when I was in my mid twenties.  Yeah, yeah, yeah...a lady never says how old she is.  I'm 39 and proud.  It's just a number.  Moving on...

I'm just going to put this out there...

The stigma of the lower back tattoo is narrow-minded.  For those who prefer to call it a tramp stamp, more power to you.  I've been married for TWENTY years to the same man I started dating at sixteen.  If that makes me a tramp, well... *shrugs*  My first tattoo was done for the same reason as my second tattoo.  FOR ME.  

Whoa.  Wait a minute. What did she say...

*GASP* For ME? I walked into the tattoo studio completely sober, aware of my surroundings, after contemplating what I wanted for months (two years on the second one). Then I sat down and talked with the artist who listened to me describe what I wanted and started drawing.  Right there.  While I spoke. I didn't put it on my lower back because it was a fad. I did it because it was there for ME.  It rarely showed, I wasn't having one done to prove a point, and I didn't care if anyone else ever saw it.  I. Did. It. For. Me.  I was 24 years old, a wife and mother, and I wanted one little thing that was purely for my own sense of self-expression and individuality.  It was vines, roses, and a blue butterfly that reminds me of Absolem (after he hatches from his cocoon) from Alice in Wonderland. I'm a Wonderland fiend, and it's very symbolic.  

Fast forward 15 years...

I spent about two years contemplating adding to my tattoo.  I have NEVER regretted my first tattoo, and I really wanted to add to it.  I've evolved a great deal over the last couple of years, and I really wanted to find an artistic way to express that.  Again...for ME.  I know all of the super conservatives may be thinking, "But what about Wes?  You're married!  What does HE think?"  I'll answer that for you right now.  He. Does. Not. Care.  He says it is MY body, that he doesn't have an opinion one way or the other, and that if it's really what I want, then that's for me to decide.   I realize that might be unpopular in some circles, but that's honestly what he said.  I'm not harming myself, I'm expressing myself in my own way.   

For those curious why I chose the tattoo I did...

I worked with a VERY talented artist here in Arkansas.  I spent an hour talking to her about what I wanted, showing her ideas, and explaining why it was important to me.  She took those thoughts and ran with them, and she created a beautiful piece of art...and...I. Love. It.  

Yeah, that's right, I love it...

I'm an avid reader. Although I work in the indie publishing industry, I've been passionate about books since I was a child. My aunt Julia worked at a library, and she always gave us books at Christmas.  Those books, along with Scholastic school flyers, fostered my passion for reading.  Books are not only my career, but they are also my passion...since childhood.  I chose the books I did based on their influence in my earlier years of reading. 

It wasn't impulsive, random, or chosen from a picture on the wall...

The lamp post represents Narnia and the lamp post that grew in the newly formed Narnia in the book The Magician's Nephew and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  The subsequent signs speak for themselves and all represent books that were the foundation of my passion.  It was SO hard to choose which signs to add, but I spent a lot of time thinking about what to add.  Yelicia added her artistic flair to it, and I'm so happy with the end result.  It feels like ME, and that's all that it's about.  After 21+ years of being a wife and mom, it's completely acceptable for me to have something that defines me, that brings me happiness, and that represents a journey that brought me to where I am today.

Don't make assumptions...

I am NOT ashamed or embarrassed to show my tattoo.  Although asked, I did not show it to anyone during our Thanksgiving trip.  Large tattoos are not pretty when they are healing, and I wasn't ready to show it then aside from providing the picture taken at the studio.  Ask me the next time you see me.  I might let you see it...if I'm in the right mood. *wink* Questions don't offend me.  I'm completely confident about my decision, and I'm happy to explain it.  All I ask is that you don't judge me based on your own preferences.  I'm happy with the decision I made.

For those curious...

Yes, it hurt. A lot. It's on my SPINE, after all.  But so does childbirth and seven abdominal surgeries.  This was a journey.  It took 3 sessions for a total of 7.5 hours to complete my tattoo.  Yelicia incorporated it with my first tattoo and she blended it so that it's cohesive and, in my opinion, so beautiful. It was worth the pain.

So basically....

It's ME.  It makes me happy.  I love it.  So if you don't understand, that's absolutely okay.  You don't have to.  

It's mine.  And I love it.

This was immediately after my tattoo was finished.  

Curious about my previous blogs?  Click here <---- !!!