It’s Just Not Right…

I grew up with my mom telling me to, “Watch your mouth!”  She hated when I said I hated something, when I sang at the dinner table, or told her I couldn’t see my mouth so I couldn’t possibly watch it. She even washed my mouth out with soap once. I don’t remember what I said, but the next day I got tonsillitis and my grandmother blamed my mother for giving it to me. I was vindicated.


I did, for the most part, try to please my mom. I watched what I said and did. I became so good at it that I developed TMJ before it was called TMJ. My parents thought it was normal that I had to hit the side of my face to get my jaw to open in the morning to eat my Special K cereal.


I don’t imagine this was so unusual for those of us raised in the late 50’s-60’s. We were managed to be polite extensions of our parents. It was our job to make them look better than they felt about themselves. Especially us girls.


It’s a hard habit to break, this watching your mouth. “What if I offend somebody?” I would worry. My mom told me the reason a boy I liked didn’t call me again is because I told him a story using the word “poop.” She said, “No boy would want to date a girl with a mouth like that.” Fuck.


It seems the older I get the less I watch my mouth and the more I speak my mind. I am a lot less tolerant of what I see and experience. I am “mouthier” these days because some things need to be said. I started a list… Continue Reading

My New Friends

And I have so many these days. It is really quite lovely. I feel wanted and important. I am popular!


Each evening my mail box is full of treasures offered by my new friends at Talbots, Black and White, Arhaus, Macy’s, Crate and Barrel… The list goes on. Actually, I think some of my new friends have told some of their friends about me because I get mail from friends I didn’t even know I had. Regardless, each of them begin with: your “friends” at LL Bean (or Sundance, Garnet Hill, Frontgate) want you to have this special offer because we value you so much. Really! I am that special. They mean it too. I know because they are so generous! My friends offer me special gifts, free shipping, 20% off and no payment until 2013. I am deeply touched by their thoughtfulness as I relax on the couch with their lovely, glossy catalogues. I know they have invested their hard earned money, their time and their energy to send these to me-their new friend.

At the bottom of the stack of mail, or sandwiched in between two of my new friends correspondence, is often a lonely white envelope. It is not friendly at all. It doesn’t even say, “Hi.” It has no pictures of gorgeous men and women. It has no pictures at all, no special offers or gifts. It simply says,”Pay this amount, by this date, or we will charge you more next month.” They don’t even say please. How rude.


I have decided I don’t like them. They are not my friends.


Oh yeah-my new friends have mentioned they want more friends. I can send them your name if you would like.


Then we can all be friends together!