The G Word.

I'll warn you ahead of time- this is going to get whiny and self-indulgent. I don't see any way around it. So please, if that type of material bothers you, I implore you to close your browser window and wait for next time, when I delve into my exploits as a car renter (which promises to be a fun, albeit cautionary tale).

I think, if you asked around, you would find that nearly everybody knows a word which makes them cringe. You know- a word whose utterance is like nails on a chalkboard- a terrible, grating noise that you never ever want to hear, ever.

If you've seen "Amelie," you will know that for Georgette the tobacconist, it is the words "fruit of thy womb." [And while we are on the topic, if you have NOT seen "Amelie," you need to drop what you are doing and watch it immediately. This blog post will still be here once you've finished.]

For Lily form "How I Met Your Mother," it was the word "moist."

...but I digress.

I'll admit that there are lots of words which I don't like the sound of, but that's not really what this is about. This is about a word which, to this day, makes me cringe and want to die- not because of the way it sounds, but because of the memory that I have attached to it.

The word is GORGEOUS.

Many years ago, in the wee hours of a summer morning, I lay in bed on the phone with a boyfriend. He was very nice and very funny, and usually ready with a sweet thing to say. I liked to chide him about that. "You're just biased because you're my boyfriend," I told him, "Boyfriends always say that their girlfriend is gorgeous."

"Well," he responded, after a while, "I don't think I'm biased. I mean, I wouldn't call you gorgeous."

There was a long silence. In fact, I don't remember speaking at all after that, though I am sure that we did continue talking. I do remember that for a while, whenever he opened his mouth, instead of hearing what he had to say, I simply heard "I wouldn't call you gorgeous. I wouldn't call you gorgeous. I wouldn't call you gorgeous" on a continuous loop. Why would he say that? I had always known that I wasn't the BEST looking girl in the world, but was it really something that he, as someone who was hoping to get into my pants, needed to point out? I blamed myself, and I still do. After all, I had been flirtatiously fishing for compliments- and let's face it, how often does that really turn out the way we'd hope?

To this day, I do not like the word. I very seldom say it. It's tempting to think that the reason that I don't like it stems from the fact that I do not feel gorgeous, and that the whole point of me writing this is just to gain an outpouring of sympathy- "OH MANDY, DON'T BE RIDICULOUS!! YOU ARE GORGEOUS!!"

I do not want that.

What I want instead is a little self-examination. This happened a long time ago, I daresay before my brain was fully developed, but it reflects an aspect of my personality which I have always found frustrating. This comment made an impression on me. For a long time, it was one of the only things I could think of when considering my appearance. I should have confronted my feelings about it. I should have confronted HIM about what he'd said. But I didn't. Instead I pushed those feelings down and continued to date prince charming (for a LOT longer, actually...). I've always been afraid of confrontation. The very idea of it makes me so uncomfortable that I would rather jump out a window than stay in a room and confront somebody about something that has made me upset. Surely the window-jump would be less painful. This fear is something that, as an adult, I want to try and combat. This doesn't mean that I have a desire to go and pick fights with everybody who irritates me, but it does mean confronting painful and upsetting feelings that I suppress. Maybe if I actually have a good look at them, I won't be as quick to push them down anymore. It's too late for "the G word," but maybe other adjectives will be spared in this practice.

PHEW!

Usually when I broach this topic- and I will admit, it has been a while- I start to feel terrible, and immediately resort to pushing the feeling down as far as it will go and focusing on something else. I wanted to see if I could confront this feeling. It turns out, I can! Maybe confrontation won't be so hard after all.