A Queen’s Speech from the Dais: My Platform
“Stop acting like such a princess!!! “My God. She is such a Queen Diva. ” “She thinks everything is all about her. What a —-” Judgements and criticisms of fellow females is harsh. Out inner voices do the same thing. If you think it is only harsh in middle school, you have not hung out with many all-grown-up women. Ladies who relentlessy criticize others are often their own worst critic. Women can cut you to shreds. And when I say “they,” I include ME in that list. Do something to hurt my family or insult me and —– KA-BAMMM!. My anger has been known to activate to nuclear levels is zero to three seconds and the radioactive fall-out has been know to be horrific. Lately I am much more pragmatic after an explosion, though. I attribute all the peace and acceptance settling into my bones just as the dust of my anger settles to serveral things. Faith-based practice and accepting that, indeed, I can not change people! Having a great therapist to remind me, “We don’t do Perfect!” Lastly, achieving more empathy is likely part of being older…shoot …Well darn-shoot! Do you have to bring that crap up? Is that really part of it? Turning fifty-something is it? I am older and wiser, B.S. You ain’t some old matron of homespun wisdom. I can hear it now, “Honey! Through the years I has learned not to give people the power to ruin a perfectly good day.” Then she shuffles off to shell butter-beans and gossip about the church secretary who is having an affair with her urologist. See, old ladies get a pass about anything. Trying to work that angle, are we…? *mutter* The voiceinmyhead hates for me to bring up age, but My Dear, Southern Belle mother who is +80 taught me to judge others. Yes. TO JUDGE. Attire was labeled: sweet, nice, proper, polished, tacky, trashy, outlandish. A person’s manner were assessed: bossy, horsey, trashy, snobbish, down-to-earth, nouveau riche, ostentatious, well-bred, well-reared, home spun, eccentric, Yankee. Style was described: ostentatious, tasteful, old money, elegant, green-stamp store, horsey, Yankee, Country, uneducated, poor, showy, tacky. At eighty something, she still is one tough critic. One day she hugged my 11 year old daughter good-bye and said, ” I love you so much. Even with you wearing that tacky nail polish.” Just so you know, it was marigold yellow. No chips. Now you may think that since I am over 50 that this infulence and rearing would have fallen by the wayside. It has to an extent, but I still fight the impulse. Sitting in judgement of everyone, but yourself is so darn easy. And frankly so very entertaining. Truth be known, The Queens fear being talked about, too. As the MJQs reconstitute and add new members, I am considering re-writing a mission statement for the Queens. Almost ten years ago, I thought the simple statement “Royal Fun” was enough of a tag-line to give full understanding and purpose to the group. Playing dress-up, creating a Regal character and spreading good-will while dressed in day-glo chiffon and rhinestone tiara was Royal Fun. For me it was. Others saw it just as a group to hang out out with and go drinking with. Good. But it is about Ruling my realm with joy and fearless abandon. When I am Queen, Rhinestones happen. Glitter spreads. Toile wraps me in Joy. I am slaying criticism and learning to walk my path in my way. MY path includes being a Queen. Your path may or may not. So—I want to reclaim the title. Queen is not a dirty word. Princess is not an insult. Reign on! QUEEN ERICA