I was born with a tiara because I was destined to be a princess. It was a fact of my life that I was conscious of ever since I was able to be conscious. Nobody ever told me that or treated me like a princess as a kid. It was just something I intrinsically knew. And I’m not talking about that Disney princess bullshit. No way. I meant a real-life princess. It didn’t matter that I was born into a middle-class farmer’s family. I figured my dull and tedious childhood would just add dimension to my biography when it was written about my rise to princesshood.Tainted or not, it's still a tiara Click To Tweet
Like so many other girls in America – where we crave royalty but don’t actually have our own so we have to be jealous of everyone else’s – I arose before dawn on that exciting day, July 29th, 1981, to watch the creation of a real-life princess. I sat Indian style on the floor in front of the TV watching the fairy tale wedding of the century. Oh the grandiosity of it all! One of my kindred spirits was making it to the big time. We were alike. We got each other. Never mind that she didn’t know me and had the perfect pedigree and was still a virgin. If she could do it, I could, too.
Well, obviously, things didn’t work out well for either of us. She’s dead, and I’m still not a princess.
So, I considered a backup plan. Depending on which book I had borrowed from the public library that week, I debated becoming an actress, a nurse, a spy, and the first female POTUS.
SPOILER ALERT: None of that happened.
I quickly realized that implementing a backup plan was hard work, and I wasn’t exactly a fan of hard work. I was more a fan of MTV and making my bangs feather perfectly. So, while I was waiting for my work ethic to kick in and tell me what direction I was supposed to point my carriage in, I drifted. I just rode the waves of life, exploring whatever shores I happened to land on. I put that princess thing in my back pocket choosing to believe that if it was meant to be my prince would find me, forgive all my transgressions, and fulfill my destiny.
After a long time of drifting…a really long time, it finally occurred to me that my tiara was so tainted that should a prince happen to pass, he would never even look at me, nor would any other man worthy of my princessness. Heck, I didn’t even want to look at myself most days. I needed to get my shit together. Not for a man, but for me. It was going to be hard work, which I hate, but that no one was going to do it for me. And I didn’t want anyone to do it for me. I wanted to do it myself. I made this mess, and I wanted to clean it up myself. I wanted to have that sense of pride and integrity knowing that I did it. I asked myself, “What would my farmer daddy do?” The answer was clear. He’d get his ass out of bed, roll up his sleeves, and fix the shit himself.This is a blog about fixing my shit Click To Tweet
What exactly is my shit and what does it mean to fix it?
My shit consists of:
• My finances
• My weight
• My house
• My career
• My hobbies
• My attitude
I have a lot of shit. Everyone does. I’m constantly thinking about it and figuring out how best to deal with it and how to live my life so I have less – or better – shit to stress about in the future.
What does it mean to get it together? I’m still working on the details of that part. Exploring what it is and how to fix it is all part of the process. This blog is going to help me with that process. It’s going to hold me accountable and provide a record so that I can look back and see how much progress I’ve made. My goal is to do at least one thing every day that is related to one of my topics listed above. It will be a great day if I can do something related to more than one topic every day. And it will be a kick ass day if I can do something related to each topic.
There, I said it. It’s documented; now it shall be so. Now leggo…