Reasons I Have No Dignity

The majority of this post is funny; although the intention and last reason is probably depressing. Who cares, I am who I am and remember my post-vacation commitment┬áto myself: I’m not going to let others shame me for being me. One of those things is brutally honest. Not rude. Not a dick. Honest. Get over it, here’s my list:

1. I’m a fucking slob. I don’t mean a cute slob, I mean a slob like no one should love me-slob. Today I have spilled on my shirt a total of three times. The first was soda. Didn’t change, just zipped up my hoodie. The second was teriyaki sauce. I licked it off. The third was right now, within moments of beginning to type. I dropped the crunchy chow mein noodles I was emotionally eating down my shirt. I then proceeded to pull them out of my bra top tank top, and for consumption. That’s right, I ate them. La Choy Boob Noodles: yum.

2. I blog, oftentimes about my own personal life. I am out there for the entire world to see. I often share things about myself and my family that only someone with no sense of dignity would share. Like the thing about the La Choy Boob Noodles. And the fact that my mom is married to a trailer-dwelling hillbilly. If my husband had one ball I would probably share that with all of you too.

3. I have no shame when it comes to talking about things like sex. There are always people sharing this on Facebook and shit, as if we aren’t supposed to know what’s going on when someone “checks in” at “My Bed” with another person. Please! They want us to know they’re doing it, but in such a vague way that we don’t really know so as to elicit comments and questions and attention. Well, I’ll just talk about it and as such I have no dignity. No, I won’t talk about it for myself (I’m married, come on … there is a ten foot wall between my husband and myself), but I will most certainly discuss when I believe something is awry. Like all the people I think are paying for some nookie in the apartment directly above ours; or the prostitution ring I think is going down at my nail salon. I’m entirely un-skiddish about discussing the nail lady deep throating a banana.

4. Those of you that have been long-time, faithful blog followers know that I have a weird obsession with PhotoShopping my head into precarious photographs. I’ve done quite a few – my head on the body of a drugged up Courtney Love; my head on the body of a 1950s housewife … the list goes on. One of my favorites from the last few months was when I made a Ten Commandments version of myself.

5. I am perfectly fine with being honest about things, all the time. I actually believe that lying is one of the worst things a person could do – when I do lie, I agonize over it. As a result of this, I am honest about stuff like “yeah, I haven’t shaved my legs in six weeks,” or “that lady who just said three hot dogs is a nice ‘morning snack’ is what’s wrong with America.” I don’t mind explaining away my bitchy behavior with being on the rag, either. I could probably do that right now, actually…

6. On the note of my little, red sister, I have no problem discussing her. It isn’t that I have a period that I think makes me have no dignity, though; what does is that I always take it too far out of a sort of contempt for the fact that people seem to act as though women should be ashamed for menstruation. Every time a man says “ewww gross” an uncontrollable fire lights within me and I completely lose my cool. One of my recent tirades was directed at my father, actually. We were running errands and he came along; of course, by “came along” I mean he drove so we could stop for cocktails since I was in a particularly pissy, period-driven mood. The last stop was Target to buy maxi pads and Always included some sort of a free “hide your tampons and maxis in here”-bag. Of course, I proceeded to yell in the car all the way to BJ’s (for dollar beers) about how ashamed I must be to be a woman that I would have to hide my tampons.

7. Sadly, the end of this is not as fun or hilarious as La Choy Boob Noodles, or Periods Gone Wild. The last reason I have no dignity – which is probably the real reason – is that I continue to allow myself to be dragged through the sludge and the mire of life by people that don’t love me for me. Even after committing to be myself and not let others shame me, I spend entirely too much time worrying about what other people say or think. I’m realizing more now than ever that I am surrounded by a lot of people that find many things wrong with me. Or that are bullies. Or just that aren’t very good people. For whatever reason, my husband and I have a lot of people in our lives that judge, bully, and always feel they have a right to tell us what is wrong with us, what we could be doing better, or how we need to change. Last night my husband and I were talking about some of these things and he says he prefers to live is life pretending that those things aren’t going on. That he isn’t being told he’s wrong, or that he needs to change. That people (like family) haven’t disapproved (and let him know just how much) more often than said they were proud of him or thought he was a good person. He would prefer to ignore the drama, rather than deal with it. For a long time I have done this as well, but a few years ago I made a conscious decision not to do that anymore. I think it’s time to finally act on that decision.

Life and relationships are about setting boundaries, and if you don’t you have no one to blame for the fact that you have absolutely no dignity but yourself. Today I am committing to take back my dignity when it comes to this last point. I’m taking back my dignity when it comes to other people – friends, family, and acquaintances. With teriyaki sauce all over my shirt; my little, red sister spewing her venom everywhere; La Choy Boob Noodles coming out the top and heading into the mouth, and tales of what should be the most humiliating things out there trailing behind me, I’m taking a stand.