Color Blind ...

I have a large family.  A lot of aunts and uncles and cousins.  All of us scattered about the vast expanse of this great country and some have even taken up residence overseas at one point in time or another.  And while facebook has been a wonderful way to keep all of us up to date on what's going on in each other's lives, it doesn't make up for the fact that we are all too far away to physically meet up with one another as often as we would like. 

And, therefore, as most of us do ... I have created my own family ... of close, personal friends.  And without my makeshift family, I believe I would be forever locked away in a drab insane asylum somewhere ... confined to a straight jacket ... and white is not a good look for me. 

My BFF has been generous enough to earn several supporting actress credits in the creation of this blog ... as have my other supporting cast members, the peeps.  And while I do believe my portrayal of my BFF has given you a somewhat intimate look at the role she plays in my life ... the other member of the peeps, the Sergeant, remains elusive. 

So ladies and gentleman ... I would like to introduce you to the last (but certainly not least) member of the peeps ... the Sergeant. 

First ... some background information.  The peeps were founded in 2001 ... when our children were in the same kindergarten class ... and the BFF and Sergeant were running the PTA.  At that time there were 4 founding members of the peeps but we have since had one member defect from our mommy posse and while the loss hit us hard at the time, the peeps are all at an age where we do not feel that we need to beg and plead for someone to want to be with us.  So we released her and wish she and her family well. 

An act, I might add, that every girl who has ever spent a Friday/Saturday night at home "washing her hair," waiting for that phone call from that guy they met last week at that bar would be wise to follow ... and every woman who stars in ABC's The Bachelor should follow as well.  Because, seriously, if someone doesn't want you for who you are ... why waste so much time trying to convince them they are wrong?  If they don't want you ... they don't want you.  And if you have to beg them to want you ... well, aside from being pathetic, it's just pointless.  Wish them well ... release them ... send them on their way. 

But I'm getting off the subject ...

So, our quartet became a trio, and I truly believe, if need be, we could run the world.  If there were a version of Sex and the City centered here in Podunk, PA ... the pilot would fade in on the peeps meeting for what they refer to as "BFF Breakfast" once a week at the local hot spot for senior citizens, "Perkins Family Restaurant"  .... ordering the same breakfasts week after week (healthy for the BFF/not so healthy for me and the Sergeant) ... sipping on coffee, green tea (guess who orders this beverage?) and chocolate milk ... talking, laughing and solving the world's problems ... well not really ... but solving our own problems and giving opinions on other people's problems whether they want our opinions or not.  It should be noted that last week's BFF breakfast lasted for 3 straight hours.  I will not be surprised if upon our next visit we are approached by management and slapped with a lease agreement for the booth we occupy . 

Missing notably from these breakfasts as of late is the Sergeant ... who has recently left the at-home mom, part-time school substitute realm to enter the workforce filling in as a full-time school substitute and leaving the remaining members of the peeps feeling recklessly abandoned.  *Sigh* 

All of the us have a role to play in the peeps organization.  My BFF is what we call the "cruise director."  The one responsible for all of our social events ... nailing down dates and times for our meetings.  I am in charge of the theater department ... as I tend to have a flair for the dramatic as well as providing the comic relief.  The Sergeant is the CEO/CFO of this organization.  The one with the level head, good advice and a "take no prisoners" attitude when it comes to dishing out the hard truths. 

My first encounter with the Sergeant before we became forever bound by the peeps was at Curves ... you know, the circuit gym for ladies?  She showed up at Curves most every morning that I was there and I was fascinated by this woman's energy.  She could have/should have run that class ... owned that franchise.  Because no matter where you are ... if the Sergeant walks in a room ... a certain frenetic energy permeates the air.  She is the little engine that could ... the energizer bunny ... and cannot be ignored. 

Now the Sergeant didn't get the name "The Sergeant," by being all warm and fuzzy.  No.  The Sergeant got her name because if she told you that you were to meet her at the corner of "Give me a Break" and "What the Hell" at 5:00 a.m. for a three-mile walk and a blizzard had whipped through the night before ... you had better be there at 5:00 a.m. for your three-mile walk ... without whining ... and ready to "pick up the pace" (her favorite catch phrase while snapping her fingers).  To this day I believe that Jillian Michaels' character on The Biggest Loser was modeled after the Sergeant when she is in workout mode. 

The Sergeant walked her three miles every morning whether the rest of us showed up or not ... with a slipped disc in her back to boot ... because she was too stubborn to go and get it fixed.  She just walked through the pain.  No matter how much we begged her not to.  Once we finally convinced her to get to a doctor, it was determined she would need surgery.  She fought and fought with us about having it done.  We told her she needed to ... that she would feel so much better when it was over and done with ... to quit being a baby and that nothing would go wrong.  Um ... we were wrong.  Days after the first surgery, the Sergeant was still in so much pain that the doctor ordered an X-ray which confirmed that the he had operated on the wrong disc ... and she had to go back under the knife.  She wasn't happy with the hospital ... the doctor ... or with us ... because we had assured her that everything would be fine. 

The Sergeant has not had a dishwasher for as long as I've known her.  Well, she has one ... but it no longer works and she has yet to replace it.  She washes all of the dishes in her house by herself every night.  When she had the slipped disc and could not stand at the sink for a long period of time, she brought in an office chair to sit in while doing the dishes.  Rumor has it that she was spotted at the local Sears store within the last couple of weeks and that a dishwasher had been purchased ... I will believe it when I see it for myself. 

The Sergeant has a big green tractor that she mows her acres of lawn with ... all by herself ... because she likes things done a certain way.  She also has a very strange obsession with keeping her driveway "apple free."  She ran the PTA when her kids were in elementary school and now runs the high school football concession stand, sits on the boosters for both of her kids sports teams, takes her daughter to ski team which is miles from home on a nightly basis in the wintertime, takes care of her husband's business financial reports, works part-time (now full-time) outside of the home, cooks, cleans, does laundry, etc.  Whew! 

My life without the Sergeant in it would be a lesser life to live.  Our families have vacationed together ... she and I squeezing our ample bottoms into the seat of a roller coaster bench that was seemingly designed for two ... but made us feel like doughy Pillsbury biscuits being squeezed into a tube ... laughing so hard we almost peed our pants.  She is the one that convinced me that I should try skiing ... which led to the fainting incident and SOS call on the toddler hill ... which has given her years and years of laughter to fall back on whenever she thinks of it.  She has held my hand through some of the darkest moments of my life and always remained calm and had a voice of reason.  She has kicked my ass to get motivated and get in shape ... and I love, love, love this woman for everything that she is. 

The Sergeant is the eldest member of the peeps and interestingly enough, the youngest member of her biological family ... a "late life" baby ... or an "Oh Shit!" baby, if you will.  The BFF would be considered the middle child and I am the baby of this family.  I like to think of the BFF and I as the "little sisters" the Sergeant never had (and some days I'm sure the Sergeant thinks of us as the "little sisters" she's glad she never had).  And as such, one of the BFF and I's most favorite activities in the whole wide world is to subject the Sergeant to getting "make-overs."

When we first met the Sergeant she was straightening her natural curly hair and had large eyeglasses ... not so unfashionable at the time ... but too big for her face.  So the first order of business was to get this woman to the nearest salon for a fun, young, short, sassy, curly hairstyle that matched her personality and to the eye doctor to find frames that fit her face ... mission accomplished. 

I, playing devil's advocate, and having supreme jealousy over the fact that my friend, the Sergeant, has naturally large (not paid for like mine) breasts, like to take the Sergeant shopping for bras ... which is harder than you think for a large-chested lady ... at least finding bras that come in colors other than white, nude and black.  Sometimes I also convince her to buy items that she deems to be ridiculous but humors me anyway ... like the day we hit the mall and came back with black thigh high stockings and matching feather boas. 

But the most challenging aspect of taking the Sergeant shopping is the fact that she is color blind.  Yep ... color blind.  As in ... can't distinguish two similar colors from one another.  She can tell something is red ... but she doesn't know which shade of red ... orange-red, blood-red, pink-red ... cannot distinguish navy from black or purple, etc. 

Now, if you are color blind, the best store for you to shop in when shopping solo is Christopher Banks ... which I call "Garanimals for Grown Ups."  Every item of clothing in that store can be paired together ... all color coordinated and it makes for an easy match.  However, if shopping anywhere else, you must enlist the help of your friends or it can be disastrous. 

Now the Sergeant is stubborn ... if you haven't figured that out for yourself by now.  She's a "can-do" gal and she believes she "can-do" anything.  And one of the most frustrating times we had shopping with her was at a local department store when we were picking out an Easter outfit and she decided to argue with the BFF and I that the sweater we picked out for her did not match the skirt she had picked.  Arguing that the flowers in the skirt were navy and would not match the purple sweater ... even though her non-color blind friends assured her that the flowers in the skirt were, in fact, a deep purple, not navy.  No amount of arguing could convince the Sergeant that we were right and she was wrong.  We even asked an innocent passerby to confirm what we knew to be true ... that the skirt and sweater matched.  We laughed and argued about this for about an hour ... until we all gave up and went in a different direction all together. 

Isn't that interesting?  The color blind Sergeant arguing with the non-color blind peeps over color????  Which got me to thinking (which is the whole reason behind this lengthy blog) about how we, as women, refuse to believe what other people see when it comes to ourselves. 

By a raise of hands ... how many of you out there have a hard time receiving a compliment?  Everyone?  Why do we do that?  If someone tells you that you look really pretty ... do you say thank you ... or do you laugh it off and/or make some kind of joke and put yourself down?  When someone says "great sweater" ... do you feel the need to tell them that you got it on sale ... so they don't think you paid full price for it?  When someone says "what a great haircut" ... do you go on and on about how you wish it were straighter, curlier, longer, shorter?  If someone says "great job" on the event you organized ... do you go into detail about how you felt you could have done a better job? 

I am a big movie watcher ... and I tend to watch my favorite movies over and over and over again.  Much to they dismay of my husband and children.  One of the classics I have watched a million times over is Pretty Woman ... you know, the one where Julia Roberts plays the hooker with the heart of gold to Richard Gere's stuffy rich guy? There is a point in the movie when Julia opens up about her life and how it came to pass that she fell into her current profession ... Richard Gere's character's says ... "but you could be so much more."  Julia Roberts responds by saying, "... the bad stuff is easier to believe." 

Isn't that the truth?  We believe it when people put us down ... when they say things that hurt our feelings.  But we choose not to believe or trust in the good stuff that others tell us.  We don't believe we are doing the best job as mothers, wives, daughters, etc., even though the people that are closest to us compliment us on a job well done ... we choose to believe the bad things. 

We are all a little color blind.  Just like the Sergeant who believes she is right when she is so obviously and clearly wrong ... because she chooses not to hear what her best friends are saying ... we all tend to put a little too much credit in the negatives we hear about ourselves and choose to overlook and ignore all of the positives that we each possess. 

I have a big ass.  So when someone says ... you look really pretty today ... I generally say something like ... yea, except for this fat ass ... or something to that effect ... because I am so hung up on my big ass that I feel like it's not possible for me to be pretty while it rests so prominently behind me.  Obviously whomever issued that compliment was not focusing on my big ass ... they just thought I looked pretty.  So why do I feel the need to draw attention to it ... to let them know that they are wrong ... that I can't possibly look pretty when my ass is this size?  It's ridiculous ... and it needs to stop ... because I am not allowing myself to see what these people actually see ... which in this case is that I look pretty.  I, like Julia Roberts, think that the bad stuff is easier to believe. I am color blind. 

So I am sending out a challenge to each and every one of you today ... when someone gives you a compliment over the next couple of days, weeks, months ... just smile and say thank you.  That's it.  Just thank you.  No excuses ... no big explanations ... and no self-deprecating remarks.  Just take it in ... accept it ... believe it. 

And maybe you and I will finally begin to believe in the good stuff ... and start to see ourselves in a new light ... begin to see how bright and beautiful we truly are ... and finally cure ourselves from being color blind.

© 2010-2011 Melanie L. Miller All Rights Reserved