The Dork in Flats

I went to a banquet the other night called Miss Greek. Andrew and I were there to support our friend Lupita. Well, I came from work in my red pants and brown flats. For those of you who know me, you may already be thinking, "Kim???? Flats???" Yes. I've slowed the pace.(Notice the picture with my cardigan and pearls!) I'm even forgetting how to walk in pumps! It wasn't about 5 minutes that I could no longer resist. I had to take pictures. I made Lupita get up and pose with her sorority sisters. Then with her boyfriend. I got her at the table. I got her by the window. You name it. In the midst of my picture binge I looked over at Andrew who was grinning like a Cheshire cat. It's then that I realized that the tables have turned. I am the dorky girl with the camera! I immediately looked down at my feet. And I am the dork in flats! I looked around the room and there were all the 20 year old girls in their strapless dresses revealing their tanning bed tans. Their hair was bleached and flat ironed to perfection. They were all skinny, and their pumps were cool colors like electric blue and pink. What happened to me???? I looked down at myself to see that I was in a cardigan. I wasn't wearing big earings. I was wearing a simple necklace. I had on brown flats and my hair was pulled back. I looked down at my stomach and long and behold I had a bit of a pooch! Andrew laughed as he watched the wave of realization wash over me. I leaned over and said to him, "When did I become the dork with the camera?" He smiled like he always does when I say something stupid like that.

Will I wear pumps again? I'm sure I will. I even flat ironed my hair the next day, but you know what? I'm okay with the cardigan and flats on most days. I'm okay with the simple necklace and red pants. You know why I'm okay with that? Apart from the fact that I was able to eat cake because I wasn't wearing a tight dress, I don't have anything to prove. I can wear pumps and a tight dress because I want to, not because I have to. I was never really of those girls that dressed to compete, but I did feel some pressure way back when. Well not anymore! As Miss Greek continued on Friday night, I leaned back in my chair with Andrew's arm around me. I drank 3 glasses of tea, and I even ate a 2nd piece of cake!

Single

I wrote this a long time ago. When I was trying to figure out where I belonged in life. Right now, I have some amazing, beautiful, godly friends that are single. Now... being happily in love I can tell them that I KNOW that I KNOW that I KNOW their turn is coming because mine did. And I am the least deserving, least perfect person I know! But they are in a "What's wrong with me?" phase in life that I get. I wrote this before I met Andrew. Most people won't get this, but those that have been there or are there will and in all honesty, that's all I care to speak to on this subject.

I was in my room looking through old photo albums and it struck me. As I glanced at myself with my closest friends from all walks of life-grade school, high school, college- I suddenly realized that I’m the only one left. Everyone has moved on. Everyone has taken another name. Everyone has been chosen by some man. That is, everyone but me. At first I shook it off. After all, I have my entire life ahead of me. I’m young. I’m healthy. My opportunities are endless and being single makes me boundless. My married girlfriends envy my freedom, but even still, I can’t help but hurt. I don’t know what it is, but no matter how skinny I feel, how successful I get, no matter how cute I dress, and even how much I love Jesus, it still hurts. I could tell you a million reasons why it shouldn’t hurt, why I shouldn’t yearn for a thing, but it still hurts.
Some people tell me I’m wired to want a husband. That the reason I hurt is because God created a hole in my heart, a longing for a mate, a place waiting to be filled. Others tell me that my biological clock is ticking. It’s socially acceptable to want to raise a family and nurture another human soul. Some may even go as far as to say that women are created for marriage. God created Adam and Eve. God honors marriage. Two are better than one. But no matter what I’m told, no reason seems to hold up. And for the life in me, I don’t seem to buy it.
As I stared deeper into my picture, the stories came flooding back. There’s Suze, the girl who wore “I want to be married” on her forehead. Suze was always in a relationship. She was the girl who was always loved, was always adored, and was always noticed. Suze never learned to be content with Jesus, much less herself, but she never had to. Then there’s Melanie, the girl who shacked her way through college. The girl who transferred schools because she ran out of guys to date. I worried about her virtue, I prayed for her reputation and her safety. I guess those prayers were answered. Then there’s Vic, the girl who presented herself as my friend. The girl who dropped off the face of the earth whenever the male species was involved. And lastly, there was Kate, the girl who didn’t even go to church. The girl who pretended to love Jesus, the girl who was Catholic, Protestant, Jewish, even Buddhist for a while. It all depended on who the man in her life was. She married a pastor.
Please don’t misunderstand me, I love these girls. I would give my life for any of these girls, and I’d like to believe that they’d do the same for me. But my point is that they did it wrong. They all did it wrong. I waited and prayed and cried out to God night upon night. I went the prom with a good friend. I skipped the sorority formals. And I stood by each one of them in their perfect, Gatsby-esque weddings and I couldn’t help but think that they reaped the benefits of my discipline. As I look at this picture, I can’t help but become angry. Why am I still standing in the crowd begging to be seen? Why am I dying inside every time I watch someone else walk down the aisle and into matrimonial bliss?
If I could close myself off, I would. If I could make myself not want that, life would be so perfect. If I could just fast forward past all of this. If I could get to the part where the love fades away and everyone is content. I think I could handle that part. But not this part. This part is excruitiating. I used to pray that God would call me to Africa. Isn’t it best to be single when following God to foreign countries? “I’m here, Lord, send me,” I’d say. But He won’t. God won’t not let me run from this battle. This long, drawn out, exhaustingly, ridiculous battle that I’ve been fighting way too long.
Though I hate to admit it, the longer I fight, the more it makes sense. I am realizing that this is something I have to fight. It may seem so stupid to most people but those out there that feel as I do, it means the world. They get the fight. And hopefully, like me, they will get the reason behind the madness. You see, God doesn’t want me to escape this. He wants me to walk through this. Some days I think He is so cruel. Some days, like the day I picked up this picture, my stomach fell to my toes and I felt gutted. And betrayed. This is why sometimes I need some reminding. Some days, I want to throw in the towel and run like Jonah did. Some days I want to be in a big city partying away my pain. But as much as I try to run, I can’t seem to not trust God. Truth is, I don’t want to get swallowed by a whale. I don’t want to live all Sex and the City. And as ironic as this sounds, I don’t want to be married until I really get it. I don’t want anyone to see me until God works this out in me.
Some days I wake up so excited. I anticipate the day I turn the corner and bam, my life changes. The day I get that phone call that sends me to my knees in gratitude because finally, my turn has come. I can’t wait for that day. But strange as this sounds, I also crave these times with God. The days that life is so scary. The days that He looks down on me and tells me that He sees me. The days that he holds me. Sometimes I think I want to be loved too badly. Maybe I’d love someone too much. Or maybe God loves me too much. Maybe He doesn’t want to let go of me. So here I am. An insecure girl writing out her heart, hoping someone out there gets what I’m saying. And hoping they too can be encouraged, even on the hard days. Though I live a very blessed life, sometimes I’m just a girl doing her best to get through the day.
Sometimes I think my day will never come. But even if that were true, I know that I have everything I need. And some days, on the rare occasion, I am able to listen to the Holy Spirit tell me, “Am I not still God?” If I take a breath, stop my whining, and cease on the “Woe is me garbage,” I can actually feel Him. I can feel Him so intently that sometimes I take comfort in the fact that it’s in these lonely days like today that I am able to meet with Him. So I guess the question isn’t, “Will I have babies? Will I join the PTA? Or will I be a grandmother?” The question is, “Am I willing to follow God, even it’s down a path loneliness? Am I willing to give up life’s greatest blessing to have these moments, these precious moments where God literally touches my heart and tells me that He adores me, that He sees me, and that He is crazy for me? Am I willing to let this be enough?”
The answer is, “yes.”

How Flowers Saved My Relationship

Yesterday was a bad day. Wait. That's the understatement of the century. Yesterday sucked a big, fat toe. Sure there were reasons for my emotional outbursts. I mean, I woke up sad and angry, but it really was a crappy day. I know, I know, I could have made the best of it. But every now and then I like to feel sorry for myself. I woke up crying. I woke up mad at Andrew. I woke up not wanting to go to work. I woke up feeling ugly, mean, unimportant, you name it. I probably should have never woken up! Shortly after getting to work, I did what every selfish person in the world does when they're upset. I started lashing out at my loved one. It's Andrew's fault I moved to Texas. Away from a cush job with incredible opportunities. Away from my family and friends. Away from my awesome condo. Shame on me for moving here without him first proposing to me. by 9 am, I had started doing that psychotic thing he and every man in America hates. I blew him up with angry texts. Through tears I told him he can no longer sleep on my couch. (After all, why would he wanna marry me if I'm too available?) I told him I'm moving to Austin near my sister or back to Memphis. I told him I was so offended he hadn't proposed to me yet. I pretty much blamed him for my unhappiness. On the way home from work I laid into him. I have never screamed and cried like that to him in my life, but I did. I told him I'm miserable and that I guess I had to jump off the cliff for him to realize that. Then I hung up on him. When I got home I found flowers and a precious note. It was what I needed. The note revealed his love for me. It showed me that he loves me and wants the best for me, even if it meant moving. Even if it meant him being miserable (because he loves it here).

And that's all I needed. (He also left me a Ziploc bag with flowers that Belle had chewed up!) I needed to know I was loved. I went on a long walk and did some soul searching and came to a few realizations. I love Andrew. I love him so very much, and I don't want to break up with him. There is no one else for me (though he told me I could make out with my choice celebrity if given the opportunity). I can't imagine life without him, but at the same time I am meant for more than marriage. More than being a loving girlfriend. I have always felt called to be more and do more. I have always felt the need to change people's lives, and I can't do that when I'm turned so into myself. That's when I realized that the problem is me. It's all me. And if I love him, if I truly love him the way he loves me, I have to try harder. I have to try before I pack up my toys and leave the sandbox. I can find friends. (I joined a book club yesterday). I can make a point to go to Sunday School. Because a lot of this stems from me not prioritizing my relationship with the Lord. I am not filled by God so every day I have been walking over to Andrew with my huge barrel to be filled. I am not prioritizing exercise, and I need that. The problem is me.

Today may bite. The next week may bite, too. And I may try and try and I'm just not supposed to be here. The point is I am gonna try. Flowers and a note are just gestures. They are not the breaking or making point of a relationship. But they are exactly what I needed to wake me up from my self-pity trance. So stay tuned.....

What Kind Of A Guy?

Let me set the scene:
My house smelled like pee (Belle!!!). I felt fat. I was tired. I had blood running down my face because Belle mistook my nose for a chew toy. And I missed Memphis terribly.

Enter Andrew…
Poor guy never had a chance. He came at the wrong time. Mt. Kim had officially erupted. I won’t get into the details, but let’s just say that I used him as a punching bag. And my baby is no pushover. He doesn’t let me go off on him without speaking up for himself. But this time, he was silent. He said nothing. He cleaned the blood off my face and sat quietly on my couch. Meanwhile I went upstairs and cried in the closet. He didn’t shout anything at me. He didn’t even turn on the TV. He gave me quiet time. A few minutes later I heard him come up the stairs. He didn’t open the door to my safe place (probably because he was afraid he would get a stiletto in the eye). He didn’t scream a few things back at me (which I so deserved). He sat on my bed and played “Don’t Think I Can’t Love You” on his IPhone: So girl, I can't buy you a big diamond ring. No house on a hill full of life's finer things. And I'll tell you right now there's a whole lot that I just can't do. Oh, but baby, don't think I can't love you.

When I came out of the closet he told me to get dressed. He had fed the dogs and wanted to take me out. He held my hand while walking to the car. (He never holds my hand in the complex because technically he is at work). But he knew I needed it. And when he grabbed my hand I knew his intention. I can’t remember what we did for the next few hours, and it doesn’t really matter. All I know is I came back to my apartment happy. Did it still smell like pee? Yes. Did I still miss Memphis? Yes. But I didn’t care because I felt loved. And nothing….not a bad day, a huge cut under my eye (thanks Belle), a pee-smelling apartment…..nothing could shake me after that. Because he loved me to the core and that’s exactly what I needed.

WHAT KIND OF A GUY DOES THAT??? What kind of a guy lets you use them as a punching bag because they know deep down you may break if they put you in your place? When you’re clearly in the wrong, what kind of a guy says nothing when you attack them the moment they walk in the door? What kind of a guy shows you affection when you show him anger? What kind of a guy takes time to read your soul? What kind of a guy gives you time to cry without offering words you don’t want to hear right away? Maybe I’m asking the wrong question. Because obviously I know what kind of a guy does all these things. The question I need to be asking is why on God’s green earth would God bless the mess out of me by giving me this kind of a guy?

Leave Jessica Simpson Alone

I'm sorry, but is this fat?????

By now I'm sure you're aware of the scrutiny Jessica Simpson is getting over her weight gain. Apparently she performed at some Chili Cook off the other day and people can't stop talking about how "fat" she's gotten.

I don't know about you, but when I saw these pictures, it made me happy. She looks normal. No, she looks great! She looks like a girl in love. I never saw her as Daisy Duke, but I did see pictures and videos of her 2 hours a day/6 days a week/South Beach Diet body. She looked incredible! So incredible, in fact, that it made me kinda sick in the head. It made me want to modify my schedule so that I could workout like that. It made me want to eat stuff I don't like so that I could like that. And sadly, it made me feel like a fat cow. I'm a size 6. I shouldn't feel like that. If I were a size 12 it shouldn't make me feel like that because she isn't my standard. And she shouldn't feel like that either because because Hollywood stars and fat reporters (that sit behind their desks, eating donuts as they write crap like this) aren't her standard. I don't get Hollywood standards. I really don't. I don't get the obsession with spending hours away from family, starving yourself to fit some mold....to look like everybody else. And where do half these girls get the energy to even workout! I just wanna tell them guess what? You get hit by a car and I guaran-darn-te that you wish you ate pizza with your boyfriend the night before. And I guaran-darn-te you'd regret being rude to your loved one because your stomach hurts from hunger or your legs hurt from your 2 hours workout!

I found an article online at The New York Post that says, "Wow, Jessica Simpson looks as if she could be an offensive lineman for her quarterback boyfriend. A plump, jeans-busting Simpson stunned fans with her new bulky build over the weekend. Simpson, 28, has packed on some serious pounds in recent months..."

The article was written by David K. Li who writes for The New York Post. Well, I have been digging for pictures of this David Kid so I could report to y'all how radiant and good looking and svelte he is. I wanted to post his picture so we could put it on our refrigerators or under our pillows because homeboy must have been chiseled by God. Well y'all, I'm sad to report that I got nothing. I'm not gonna say anything ugly about this guy because I don't know him....and I like to sleep at night. But one can only reason that since I can't find one single picture of him and given the fact he has built a career on making fun of people...(Insert your own assumption here). Here's what he said today when he caught wind of Jessica Simpson's sister sticking up for her. "Ashlee Simpson is sticking up for her big - really big - sister." Dude, get a life. That about sums it up for me.

Don't get me wrong, I'm in no way endorsing we all start super sizing our fries and sit at home and watch Lifetime (though that could be a little fun!) And I'm not saying there's anything wrong with working to have a good body. A lot of stars get it right. Look at J Lo and Jennifer Garner and Fergie! I'm talking about the need, the sick need, to feel as if these girls are our standard. And for being defeated because we will never look like that. Confession: Sometimes I buy into the Hollywood thing and diet and exercise like a mad woman. I get all, I can look like her....I have to look like her! And you know what? I usually end up grumpy and light header from hunger. Then sometimes I go the other way and eat like a cow for a week, indulging in everything that comes my way because I will never look like that. "No thank you" are bad words. And I usually end up sluggish from the sugar overload and mean because I feel out of control. That's no way to live y'all! People that are a size 2 don't have perfect lives! What on God's green earth do we hope to accomplish with this!

What I'm talking about is balance. Balance! Watch your calories, diet if you have something you need to lose weight for. Exercise as much as you can. Eat healthily, but my jingle bells have a stinkin' piece of pie every now and then. I once heard Dr. Phil say something that has stuck with me for awhile. He said something to the effect of, "It's okay to have a piece of cake on your birthday. It's not okay to eat a whole cake on someone else's birthday!" That's the balance I'm talking about.

Y'all, we are not defined by what we eat. We aren't defined by anyone's opinion-even our husbands and boyfriends. We are responsible for how we feel. I think everyone should be as skinny as they want to be. If you feel good and can maintain a healthy lifestyle at a size 14 then more power to ya. If you love your size 4 figure and enjoy working hard to keep that then more power to ya too. But if you mull over your week's calories. Or slap yourself for having Mexican food with your gal pals then something ain't right. Size 0, size 6, size 20.... you should never be defined by this. Calories ingested and numbers on a scale are not litmus tests of our worth. Beauty is truly skin deep. And in the eye of the beholder. And when I see Jessica Simpson, I see a girl in love! And I understand that feeling. I love a guy who loves to eat. I eat fried chicken now. I eat real ice cream and it feels great. Now some days I have to cut him off and say, "I need healthy until my pants fit!" And he gets that.

Jessica Simpson looks great and it pains me to think that she's at home on her treadmill running until she can no longer stand. Or that someone out there is home from work because they had a "binge" last night and feel too fat to leave the house. I'm guilty of all of this, and as a woman I can attest that we need girls like Jessica Simpson to look at. Just like we need girlfriends that we can split chocolate cake with to keep us balanced. Because life is about balance. And it's about living to the fullest. Anyone of us could die in 5 minutes. And I don't know about you, but I'd like to go down with a full tummy....maybe even a tiny pooch!

My List

I know this is morbid but...people die. I'm gonna die. Like there is a 100% chance that I will die. It could be in 5 minutes. It could be in 50 years. My point being that:

1. You MUST know where you're going. I hate the whole Hollywood/TV thing where the loved one asks the dying person if they believe in God and they say respond, "I think so." Then they go into this long speech about going to church as a kid and you're supposed to think they're a good person, yada yada yada. Y'all I just I wanna hand them a Bible and say, "Honey, that's not good enough!" Because it's not. You have to know that you know that you know that Jesus Christ is the way. The only way.

2. You MUST always tell your loved ones that you love them. Even if you don't like them. Take this morning for example. I got mad at my mother, and she said I love you anyway. I'm sure she didn't want to because I made her mad. But she did. And I said I love you, too. I don't always do this. Shoot, sometimes...No, often, my pride gets in the way and I leave in a huff. Well shame on me. Another case in point: When Andrew falls asleep on my couch, and I'm mad at him when I leave for work. I should still say I love you. I know this. (Sorry babe. You know I do. But stop sleeping on my couch!) My point being that we should ALWAYS tell our loved ones that we love them. We should always treat our conversations as if they are our last. Even if we're mad.

3. You MUST live life to the fullest. I'm sorry. I can't stand people who say, "I just wanna go home to Jesus. Anytime. That's all I want. He can take me now." Don't get me wrong. I want that too. Of course I want that, but why not have both? Life a full life. Then die. Then go home to Jesus. Why not have your cake and eat it too! God created me to have human desires so forgive me for wanting to graduate. Go to Prom. Get married. Have sex. Have babies. You catch my drift?

All this being said, I encourage you to have a list. It doesn't have to be a physical, methodological list where you are all anal about checking stuff off. Just a loose list of things you MUST do before you die. Here are a few of mine....I may have left some stuff off. I may add a few, but here they are (in no particular order):

1. Write another book
2. Tour Jane Austen country
3. Have a child
4. Get married
5. Have sex
6. Go on a cruise
7. Go to Greece and Italy.
8. Run a half marathon (Jury's still out on if I'd even wanna run a full marathon. I'm thinkin' no right now.)
9. Surf (or attempt to)
10. Go to Africa (on missions and on a safari)
11. Rescue a dog (I actually just did this, but I had written my list prior to Belle)
12. Hang out with a celebrity
13. Have no debt (Don't panic Andrew. I only owe my Dad a few G's)
14. Swim with dolphins
15. Learn another language
16. Kiss Andrew on top of the Eiffel Tower...then sit with him at an outdoor cafe clad in a beret, while drinking espresso (Shut up y'all!)
17. Spend the night at The Plaza in NYC
18. Stay at a Haunted Hotel for a Murder Mystery weekend
19. Visit all 50 states (Maybe not all 50 states. Can't say I care about places like South Dakota. But Hawaii, Alaska, Washington, and places like that. Yeah buddy.)
20. Ride a Hot Air Balloon
21. Change someone's life for the better

Of course there are other things like milk a cow, ride a mechanical bull. And the obvious: watch my children get married. But seriously, I could go all day with this.)

Now I'm sure I have more but these are the ones that come to mind. Now go home or if you're already home, get up and get a piece of paper and start pondering these things.

Hollywood and Politics....a bad cocktail!

You know what's annoying....Hollywood. I will be the first to admit that I follow all the diets, love triangles, who is dating who and fashion in LaLa Land. I often visit popsugar.com and people.com. I love it. I am a hoe for it, but the whole Hollywood goes to Washington makes me wanna hurl my Wheaties. Take Jessica Alba for instance. I watched an interview with her yesterday, and I wanted to throw my tub of Ben and Jerry's at her. She was badgering some poor reporter because he refused to answer what he admired most about Obama. He was trying to do his job and the B list actress was in his face scolding him for not wanting to answer. What the crap! Stick to your bikini wearing movies with no plot and let the man do his job. I love stars like Jenny McCarthy who take a cause, like autism, and advocate and speak out. She's educated on the subject and has done so much for the cause. And Bono! He's the stinkin' man! But these little starlets that have diarrhea of the mouth and are oh so educated need to shut their pie holes. Like all these environmental activists who fly in their private jets on a weekly basis and use more electricity a month to heat their mansions then I do all year. Those are the people I'm talking about. Half of these Bush-is-an-idiot-and-ruined-our-economy freaks didn't even finish high school! Here's the deal Jessica Alba... When you graduate from Yale or Harvard at the top of your class, then you can call Bill O'Reilly a b-hole (she did that in the interview, too). Until then, stick to your starvation regimen, baby making and crap movies. Now don't get me wrong. I have no problem with people having opinions. Shoot, I have an opinion about having an opinion. I don't begrudge Ben Affleck for being liberal and having opposed views from mine. He's actually a pretty smart guy. What I am saying is to have an educated opinion, not just throw out insults. Or be hypocritical. How many "Green" celebrities flew to DC yesterday on a commercial airline? My point exactly. I'm not gonna go all crazy and boycott movies. Shoot, that would suck for me! All I'm saying is do what you do best and act. And if you wanna advocate, talk to Jenny McCarthy or Bono and learn how to not look like an idiot!