blugh or: how i learned to love short man's complex

Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

yesterday was one of "those" days.

it all started when i woke up screaming from a bad dream. i lay there with my heart pounded when my boyfriend bound into the bedroom holding a frying pan, asking "what is it?! what happened?!"*

then while doing yoga, a car careened into three others right outside my window.

then my boyfriend and i quibbled about how unsupportive and unnice and uneverything i am. so by this time, i was tossed into the depths of despair. and my thoughts turned to how much of a boob i can be.

i once attended a dinner of a man who was fairly well off. and the people in his presence fawned and applauded every move he made. this short little man, once he had enough alcohol in him, turned to me and said, "you know krista, the first time i met you, i thought you were a real bitch." silence befell the table.

he had a point. the first time i met him, he said something completely unimpressive and, therefore, i was completely unimpressed. i guess tiny little man had been affected by my unresponsiveness to his money, his widgets, and his playthings.

then he got 3 gimlets in him.

and so, silence befell the table. i can't remember if anyone awkwardly dropped a fork, but let's say someone did. no one came to my defense. was it for fear of insulting the host? or because he has more financial clout than i?

i retorted. "well at least i remembered who you were." because when i had shown up earlier that evening, he looked at me and brusquely said, "who's this?"

charming.

so after my retort, his table of admirers piped up with defense. "well, you totally changed your hair color." "you met him in winter - you have a tan now." all sorts of hooey and humbug.

there was a second incident where he reminded me of my bitchiness. i ran into him at a restaurant and, i guess, didn't greet him with the perfunctory glee to which he is accustomed. "gawd krista, you're such a bitch."

"enjoy your meal." i replied.

have you ever told someone who is feeling vulnerable that they're not a bad person? that person basically crumbles, because for some reason, some how, we all think that a part of us IS bad: we're not smart enough, friendly enough, skinny enough, athletic enough, social enough, talented enough, pretty enough, nice enough, educated enough, good enough...

it may not seem like it, but i've dedicated the better part of my life trying to figure out who i am and make myself a better person. if you grab me by my shoulders and look me in the eye and tell me i'm not a bad person, i will crumble and cry.

so i certainly don't need some tiny little man who can barely reach the peddles of his standard-issue suv to tell me otherwise.

* frying pan may or may not have been present.