Forgive me Father

As a child I had an aunt who called me Devilene. She was a strange sort…she firmly believed the best way to keep a rather over-active 5-year-old in line was to literally put the fear of God into me. The FPU, had she known of this, would have freaked out. My mother`s a pragmatic sort and she does not believe in myths, lies and fables when parenting. She`d rather say, Kiddo, you`ve f*cked up in the past, but that is not the reason why things are going bad for you now. I remember hurting myself quite badly one day. I was racing around the pool I think (probably with Krisma Boet) when I stumbled and knocked my big toe. It was a bloody mess and I, of course, ran to the first and (at the time) only adult around my aunt. She took one look at me and said… You know why you got hurt, don`t you. You`re being punished for being a naughty little girl.

I`m standing there. Bleeding. Tears streaming down my face. Ringlets now a mess and green dungaree`s full of blood. I`m staring at her and I`m incredulous. Somewhere in my 5-year-old mind I decided (then and there) that she must be a wack job.

Moving on…years later I still don`t believe that God (or anyone else for that matter) punishes you. What bollocks? We are hardest on ourselves. Human beings have a propensity for woe is me. We are so wrapped up in Doom and Misery whether it be our own or our neighbours. But I digress…

I have, however, through the years come to the realisation that every now and then you have to be honest and go to confession. In my case, I am my own priest, I am my own sinner, I absolve my own sins (or, in the case of a major skandal, I`ll ask the other person to forgive me for being a total cow…and THEN I will go off and absolve me of my sins). I find it extremely cathartic and life affirming to be honest with myself about my wrongs and shortcomings…*snort*or to be really honest, it makes me feel good when I can say terrible things about myself, before anybody else can.

I`ve had a strange couple of days past…I felt strangely melancholy and the need to get real about stuff is strong. So, I`ve decided that I need to confess.

There was a time when I wished that I had had the courage to cheat on my boyfriends. I have never cheated and I guess I`ll always be a woman that`s monogamous and loyal to a fault, but there was a time when I was very hurt and I actually wished I had cheated. LOTS. Secretly I still regret being such a good girl.
I like the smell of cigarette smoke, whisky and cologne on boys not overwhelmingly so, just enough to be sexy.
Sometimes I come home from work and I immediately put on my PJ`s. Whether it`s 4pm or 10pm, it`s just so safe and comforting after a particularly horrible day.
When I was 7 I had to go to a certain lady`s house after school on a Wednesday and Thursday. I had my piano lessons there. She always insisted on giving me lunch. One day she gave me toast with Peanut Butter and Fish Paste. I. Could. Not. So, I waited till she left the room and tore a page out of a book. I wrapped the offending sarnie in the page and stuck it in my schoolbag. I trashed it the moment I left her house. To this day I don`t it Peanut Butter. Or Fish Paste. I still feel bad for wasting the food though.
I`ve always been incredibly jealous of both my sisters` hair. Allison, my eldest sister has thick, black hair. Lusterous and always gleaming. She doesn`t need to blow-dry it. In fact, she washes it and forgets about it and still it always looks good. Kim has the most fantastic mop of curls that I`ve ever seen on anybody. I have in-between hair. Neither straight, nor curly, or long, or short, or thick, or thin. And they need constant attention. L. *sigh* Where did the FPU go wrong with me?
I don`t like cats. I sometimes pretend to. I like the fact that other people get along with them, but I don`t like them. I think they`re evil and I don`t trust them.
I think making supper for myself is overrated. Therefore, I rarely eat in the evenings. But I will have a glass of red wine. I don`t care about the don`t drink alone rule. Guess what? It`s ONE glass and I AM alone. And I can`t help that I am alone. But I can restrict myself to one glass. I deal with those things I can control.
I love 80`s rock. And Bozz Scaggs. And Barry Manilow. And old WHAM hits. I even like Christopher Cross.
I am the ballsiest person I know, but when I meet a boy I like I become totally inept. It`s a weakness and it sucks.
I don`t like Oprah Winfrey. I think she`s a smug know-it-all. She might be a RICH smug know-it-all, but being rich does not entitle you to an opinion. However, I do respect her for her (carefully chosen for PR) humanitarian causes.
My greatest fear is that one day, in saying what`s on my mind and calling a spade…well a spade, I might say something unkind about somebody or something (refer Oprah remark). I suspect that I`m unkind all the time, but I`m oblivious to it. I hate unkindness and I think I might be the biggest hypocrite ever.

And there you go… The annual confession session (say that fast 5 times. I dare ya!). Just in time for Santa to see that I`m a very good girl…I believe in prepping early!

I`m devious that way kinda` like cats. And Oprah.

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