Very Scandalous Things

(Pre-Script: This post will involve you in your own internal scandal when read as the song, "Lollipop," #51 on the playlist, plays in the background. Go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...)(...still waiting...)

There are two Very Scandalous Things I've done in my life so far, more if you're counting. The first I will not mention; the second I will mention; the rest I am still in denial about.

My Imaginary Reader wants to interject right here, and I imagine that said reader has just come in from a long day of surfing:

"Woah, Dude, why are getting all confessiony? Are you like on your death bed or something? Gnarly, dude; Far OUT! Righteous!"

(Not that I know, Gentle reader, not that I know today.)

My other imaginary Reader wants to interject something here, and this is the reader who just got back from her latest Psychotherapy Training Session:

"Wow, Michelle, the fact that you are in denial and won't admit even to yourself thing that you have done, in order to project an image of goodness to the world, shows that you are more flawed than if you had just been honest in the first place. And also that you have a large ego. And also that you are not as in denial as you say, since you did actually make mention of Scandalous Things."

(Actually, Dear Reader, I made mention of Very Scandalous Things...and the rest of what you said just flew over my head.)

Ahem.

So anyway.

Here is my confession:

After birthing yet another human being into this overpopulated world (not that I'm counting)* I was at the gym one day reading an article in a magazine. I don't remember which, Self Or Shape or somesuch magazine who's goal is to cheer you on to physical fitness glory. And while I was reading, and feeling so encouraged and full of hope that all of my personal fitness goals were, actually, yes within my very reach, if I would but be brave enough to grasp for them, I found an article with a workout plan that I could do at home which required no equipment. There were even little pictures and step by step instructions on how to do each exercise. So I ripped out the pages and took them home.

(Insert moment of horrified silence here as you realize what I just said)

(And if you need to take a moment to weep and wail and gnash your teeth right now, just go ahead and do that too.)

Before this, I was a person who didn't even realize I prided myself on being a Person Who Would NEVER Tear Pages Out Of A Gym Magazine And Take Them Home. (or P.W.W.N.T.P.O.O.A.G.M.a.T.T.H.) But then I did that thing which I never thought I would ever do, and suddenly I was a person involved in a Scandal. No one knew about it but me, but a scandal is a scandal.

Do you know that I never even wasted one second of guilty guilty guilty self bashing and loathing on it, either? I actually wasted TWO seconds on guilty guilty guilty self bashing and loathing on it. But then I blinked, and it was gone. Because the truth is, I felt the article could help me out, more than I cared about sticking to some notion I had always thought was what I "should" do...and in my case, it turned out to be a good decision. I used that article for many months; I did that series of exercises at home whenever was convenient for me. I gained from my own scandal. What I gained was mostly muscle tone and a bit of endurance.

I think that more often than not, when faced with a scandal that looks like an answer to what a person thinks he or she needs, a person will do the scandalous thing.

Call it "Human Nature," if you will.

In the five years that have since passed, I have decided that I don't want to be a person who removes pages from magazines that belong to the gym. I have been very, very good.

Except for last week. When I did it again.

(For the record, it was a completely different article, on a completely different life altering topic)

Oops.

And with that, this confessional booth is closed for the day, before the cops start hunting me down and pounding on my door, before they get out that big megaphone and yell "Come out with your hands up. We have you surrounded."
Gosh, can you even begin to imagine just how embarressing that would be for me? No, I don't think you can.


-XOXO,

*If my tongue in cheek sarcasm is not obvious, let me tell you: I was using tongue in cheek sarcasm. OF COURSE I don't see my own children as overpopulating the world. I don't view anyone else or their children that way, either. Duh.