Where I End And Offend Begins
I don't know how humans physically come out of "the woodwork" but for the past week people have been apologizing to me left and right and center court. Tons of people, from good friends to strangers, family and facebook friends all worried about hurting my tender feelings. ONLY I HAVEN'T ONCE BEEN OFFENDED.
This is befuddling. (Does it offend you when I use that word?)
After a rousing conversation about politics, religion, race and sexuality with my visiting teachers (the female equivalent to home teachers) one morning I felt invigorated. Perhaps when people love eachother there really aren't topics of conversation off limits! But then the night following, my visiting teacher showed up with a party plate full of peanut butter chocolate love bars and a practiced apology. I was almost offended that she thought I was offended, but told her I'd take the treats anyway just to ease her of her guilt--the ultimate act of charity.
Others too have called, come by or mentioned in conversation how ashamed they were for something they said. Something I might have taken wrong. Something they couldn't stop thinking about. Like my friend today who called to say she was sorry for teasing me when I said the word "peepers" during church yesterday in front of the children. I laughed at her for even dialing my number. Besides peepers is in the Bible. Look it up.
This isn't like two weeks ago when instead of apologies, people came crawling out of the woodwork sending ugly photos of me as a missionary. Isn't that uncanny? Ugly photos of yours truly were being tossed into my inbox like croutons on a Caesar salad. Ugly like Day Light Savings Time. In fact, if you are my facebook friend you can go right now and find one in my photos file.
I can't tell which experience is worse, having to look at ugly photos of myself or people thinking they have offended me when they haven't.
Anyway, before I get too derailed and start to tell you about how I sprayed myself and then Chup in the eyeballs with The Chief's lavender sleeping spray tonight, I shall gather this whole post in to some sort of sense.
I need to:
a.) figure out why people think I am so sensitive. Is it my allergies? I don't have allergies.
b.) figure out what offends me. Because it sure ain't what people think it is.
(It used to be my lisp. Anytime someone mentioned my lisp I'd be really hurt, but Chup came along and started calling it "cute, in a sexy sort of way" and then I didn't care what people said about my slip of my tongue. So there, high school.)
Maybe I should turn this question on the world.
Dear World, do you know what offends you?
*thanks Soeur Clark for the photo, you are welcome for the leopard print dress.