You are NOT to
Listen up you Bitch:
1- you are NOT to stare in horror at my hands with a mixture of revulsion and pity on that pinched face of yours and actually CHECK YOURS quickly just to make sure I haven't infected you yet. I couldn't possibly fail to see my hands, my body and yes, I know all about it, IT LOOKS FUCKING HORRIBLE you stupid twat but do you think I'd walk around this carefree if it were CONTAGIOUS? You want we should go back to sounding little bells so you are warned of our approach and have time to flee?
2 - You are NOT to call your husband and kids' attention to my hands in such a blatant manner that everyone around us starts paying attention and watching me as well, some cringeing, some not. And I am standing RIGHT NEXT TO YOU, you little piece of shit, in case you hadn't noticed and am neither blind nor deaf. You think I forget about it often enough that I have to be reminded of it by fucking idiots like you EVERY SINGLE DAY OF MY LIFE? Would you like to feed me as well? They keep peanuts and herring just for this you know, just throw them at me and I'll try to catch them with my mouth.
3 - You are NOT to wonder aloud HOW ON EARTH I CAUGHT SUCH A THING and then place a protective hand on your youngest's shoulder thereby holding him in place and ensuring a safe enough distance between the two of us, just in case. I can tell you are one of those charitable souls who will ask me WHERE ELSE HAVE YOU GOT IT and then proceed to tell me, given half a chance, that SHOWERING MORE OFTEN might just make it ALL go away.
4 - You are NOT to actually jump in the air a bit when I suddenly lay the back of my hand against yours on the counter and say "BOOO!". Just be happy I didn't smack you, because I wanted to SO BADLY I could taste blood, I swear.
5 - And above all, you fucking stupid bitch, you are NOT to scream "That's so RUDE, how dare you!" when I meet your eye and say into your face: "It's called psoriasis and it may go into remission yet; YOU, on the other hand, will ALWAYS be ugly as sin ."
-----------------------------------------------------------
And because I do desperately need some beauty this very minute:
(V. sent me this yesterday, I adore it. If I were a poem, this is where I'd come to breathe.)
The Invitation
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dreams
for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes."
It doesn't interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.
posted by Lioness @ 9:38 pm
11 furballs
11 Comments:
Wow, that is a very sexy photo.
Beautiful poem. Very true. I was nodding vigourously all the way through.
What is wrong w you people, can't you see the Pinkpanthery hands???
Lioness,
First off, that woman was a bitch, you pegged her perfectly. Dumb woman. I dislike her muchly. And she sets a horrible example for her children. Dumb.
I don't think you should worry about your hands. I hope it doesn't hurt but I know I don't care if there are pink spots. We all have to deal with something.
The poem is lovely. Absolutely lovely. Thank you for posting it and sharing it. I'm glad I got the opportunity to read it.
Beth
Just LOOK at the hand and wrist woman!!!
Lioness, trust me, your hand was not the focus of my attention in that photo. I probably wouldn't even have noticed if you hadn't drawn attention to it. But even when you did I still don't focus on the hand.
What I do focus on is your lovely smile, your beautiful (if partially obscured) face, the way you have your hair, the little curl of hair that's escaped down your neck (have you any idea how sexy that is to a man?), the curve of your neck, and that pink sweater....oh boy, I had better stop there before I get myself into trouble.
And if some woman focuses on your hands amidst such a vision of beauty then dismiss her - she's just an idiot. She's probably only jealous of your good looks anyway.
That is unbelievably sweet of you, thank you. I don't quite understand it but thank you all, really. It's amazing, it truly is.
Really? Good heavens, it's just psoriasis, isn't it? Where do these people live, under rocks?
You're lovely, with or without it.
Indeed. The poem aptly points to the tremendous strength which you already have, demonstrated by the many generous gestures you've already made here on this site, and no doubt elsewhere. And this above all is beautiful, irregardless of what the hand making the gesture looks like.
The petty people aren't worth anyone's time of day. That's why they invented Whup-Ass, after all.
Great come back. She sounds like a grade-A A*hole. That reminds me of the exchange between Winston Churchill and Nancy Astor:
Astor: You, sir, are drunk.
Churchill: And you, madam, are ugly. But, when I wake up, I shall be SHOBER!
Some people are just plain ignorant I tell you. Great come back though.
As for the picture, I must agree with everyone that the hands are the last thing you notice when you look at it. You are beautiful L.
Really, you are all amazing. I truly did not expect this and have been bracing myself for the comments. It makes me stop and think that maybe V. is right and I do have a warped self-image bcs you all act like it's no big deal (for the viewer that is) so it must be less horrific than I think it is. I may just not be a full-blown leper, who knew. I can see this blogging thing might yet be therapeutical indeed. In, er, almost-defense (!) of P trolls, although I have heard a lot in my life, and have had people freak out on me in all sorts of different ways, this woman was like all rolled into one. They usually do just one or two.
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