Note to Self: Cucumber Melon = Bad Juju

A few months ago, I was sitting in the OU student union with some of the RUF girls, and we got to talking about how funny/odd it is, that every so often, a girl’s ordinary circumstances collide with her particular chemical circumstances and she feels like it truly is the end of the world. Everything has gone wrong, or is on the fast track to going wrong. We should theoretically be able to anticipate such times, we reasoned, and tell ourselves that its alright, that things are just a little imbalanced, to remind ourselves about how the last time we felt precisely this way it all turned out alright. But, then, it never works out that way. I suppose that’s about as silly as saying one should be able to take drugs but not let them affect him or her because his or her brain can should be able to say "Don’t worry about how you feel, its just the drugs."

For example, the other evening Sam made an offhand comment, like he does from time to time, about how he thinks my particular brand of deodorant smells not so good. Usually I just dismiss these ridiculous and wholly ungrounded comments, but yesterday, for some reason, it incited me to think that I was undesirable, that something was wrong with me, that I was incapable of making myself smell pleasant, something that girls should never have to work at, right? And that this incapability caused me to get a big fat B- on the test of Life and Relationships.

But thankfully the Lord had it in his wisdom to bring me a friend who, while his endearing honesty is sometimes the source of my tears, also understands me, knows that he is highly imperfect and is usually quick to repent and apologize if he’s hurt me intentional or not, who doesn’t resent such episodes, who in fact realizes that they are not to be resented but merely just the way girls/people are sometimes. I go so far to say that he even loves it about me, because its just part of who I am. He knows that it will happen again numerous, numerous times, as long as we are together and it seems this even makes him love me more. He is so patient in telling me that I’ve already passed, that I already have an A+, the test is over! Because it just takes telling and retelling, doesn’t it? It’s nice to understand and to be understood. And it’s nice to not have to feel silly when it’s all over that I got so upset from a comment about the fragrance of my deodorant.