Phoney

It occurs to me that one of the biggest obstacles that I have perpetually created for myself since childhood, is honesty. In most cases, I will always be myself. I will say what I think, do what I know and admit what I don't know.

This particular character trait has gotten me into more than one awkward and embarrassing situation. I was nine when I told a friend that I didn't like her freckles and her hair wasn't pretty. I loved hanging out with her, she had smurfs and the best doll house, and a laundry shoot to throw her barbies down. I figured the fact that she had freckles and shitty hair was incidental. She didn't. She wasn't my friend after that.

When I was eleven I made the gymnastics team. I was pretty good. The problem is that I knew this. It never dawned on me to use it to my advantage, I was just excited every time I learned a new trick. My favorite was a back handspring on the balance beam. I made the mistake of showing my friends at the bus stop one morning. They stop talking to me.This was a regular happening in my life. Those "open mouth insert foot" moments. I lack appropriate social etiquette. All of this wouldn't be a problem in my life except that I never mastered the art of "phony", so it can cramp a relationship in the beginning.

So far, we have dweled at the end of our cul-de-sac for 4 months. Enough time to know that I'm not exactly being welcomed with enthusiasum. I've done my best not to be offensive. I can't say that I've been perfect, but I'm not sailing headlong into the wind without taking precautionary meassures. I'm not doing back handsprings at the bus stop. I've not protested when someone makes an inappropriate inquiry or comment, armed with information that I did not, and would not, share with a stranger. But it's difficult to hold ones toungue when a perfect stranger arrives at your door or calls you on the phone and attempts conversation with this information that they should not necessarily be privy to. It's NOT a stretch to know that the information is gleened at Relief Society in the after class gossip ring. I did not just fall off the turnip wagon.

I've with held my opinions in these instances and just politely nodded my head as I did again tonight, but I feel like a pressure cooker that needs the heat turned down. I'm going to blow. I sat amongst a few hundred people tonight and attempted to say hello, mingle, be friedly. But I felt like I did in Jr. High and Highschool, the weirdo standing on the outskirts hoping the popular kids will throw you a bone. They never do.

What's tragic is that this isn't school. These are grown-ups, or so I thought. I ended the picnic, wine filled water bottle in hand, walking home with my dinner. It appears that, once again, the infamous culture in this state, doesn't want to throw me a bone. I still feel the same as I did in High school when I arrive home, the stupid, ugly kid that everyone hopes will just go away. You know the line, "Go away stray dog"