I had some friends over tonight for dinner, and things didn't turn out so well. I probably should have known the evening would go south after a woman at the bank called me a white honky and berrated me about cutting in line. She had an ankle brace on, and after moving to the back of the line and repeatedly apologizing for offending her, I seriously considered smashing her foot with the heel of my boot. Instead I smiled, and tried to kill her with kindness. Another woman who had witnessed the whole scene caught me on my way out of the store and helped lighten my load a little by taking my side in the matter.
When I got home, I decided I would prepare a tasty meal for my guest. I had some helping hands in the kitchen, and together we created a feast fit for a king (or so I thought). One of my eager helpers decided we needed a salad to go with our dinner, and when asked if I had any crutons, I promptly located them in the depths of my cabinet. I mentioned that he might want to check the date because I couldn't remember when I had purchased them. He proceeded to pour them into the salad mixture, and we all set down to dig into the yummy food. Next thing you know, one of my guest squeals with disgust. A tiny little critter had scurried across her salad, leaving her stomach in a lurch. Everyone at the table freaked out, and we all began scouring our plates, checking for isects. It didn't take us long to realize what had happened before my valiant roomate rushed over to remove the infested bowl of greens from the table.
Now you might be wondering why I decided to blog about such a disgusting occurence. To be real honest, I had planned on creating some elaborate story about the miserable woman provoking me @ Wells Fargo . Instead, I decided to go with salad fiasco for one main reason: Shame.
As soon as the above scenario began to unfold, I was instantly overtaken by a flood of embarrasement. I felt dirty and ignorant. I mean who keeps crusty old food in their cabinets? And what kind of people have four legged insects nesting in their pantry? Insecurity is a dangerous weapon of the enemy. Old messages began to tell me that none of my friends would never eat dinner with me again, and I would forever be known as the "bug girl". With all my might, I attempted to thwart off the lies of Satan. Thankfully, I was able to remind myself that this could have happened to anyone, and it was just some freak episode. I repeated the mantra, "This is not a reflection of who you are. This is not a reflection of who you are. This is not a reflection of who you are," over and over again. Self-talk can be a very helpful tool. This honest mistake provided a couple of valuable lessons. #1. Just because wierdo stuff happens, doesn't mean I'm a wierdo. #2. You should clean out your cabinets and discard expired food on a regular basis.
I hope those of you reading this will still love me. Even when I accidently serve bugs with my salad.