#FirstWorldProblems, Part 2

Me:  Hi.  I'd like to cancel my massage appointment.  I have a schedule conflict.

Receptionist:  Okay.  Would you like to reschedule now for another time?

Me:  Well, let me think...I'm trying to figure out when I'm going to be really stressed out...that would probably be a good time to come in, right?!

These are actual events, people.  Hence, the continuation of the #Hashtag series: #FirstWorldProblems

In the pursuit of learning how to love myself, I made a very poor decision.  And by very "poor" I mean, shoot, this is coming out of my personal checking account, not the family funds...I had better sell some jewelry or have a garage sale or sell Emily's dog...

You see, I was given two massage gift certificates about 2 and a half years ago, right after I learned I was pregnant with Ryan.  I used one last year some time, and the other a few months ago, finally.  

It's that second one that was the devil.

The little receptionist sales girl tried to "up sell" me.  At first I held strong.  Jason has a house rule that I'm not allowed to buy anything solicited at our front door.  It was heart wrenching to turn down Thin Mints Girl Scouts at first, but time, practice, and also learning my allergies has helped me gain the confidence I need to say, "No, thanks!"  

Anyway, the massage wasn't being sold to me at my front door.  And by "massage" I mean: monthly massage membership package, blah, blah, blah, sign on this line.

You see, it's a scam.  A total conspiracy and this is how it works:  Someone gets you a gift certificate, you know, as a gift.  Then, you go in, have a cup of tea, head back to the dimly lit, perfectly heated room where you slip under snuggly heated blankies on a squishy, cushy massage bed, as you inhale relaxing aromatherapy inhalants and get an awesome, relaxing massage for an hour or so.

And this is the point in the story where you should get dressed, head back out to the receptionist, leave your gratuity at the front desk and WALK OUT THE FRONT DOOR, never to return.

In my relaxed state I don't know what the little receptionist sales girl said to me, but I was relaxed and vulnerable and didn't walk out the door.  I thought to myself:  I love getting massages.  I only ever get them on vacation.  It could be like a mini-vacation, once a month.  Remember that one in Japan where that teeny tiny woman walked on your back?  Or the one in Mexico where Julio...oh, never mind.  They are relaxing.  I only get them once a year.  If I were to splurge on one thing a month, a massage would be a really good choice...it would show me that I love me...yeah, that's the ticket.  I'm learning how to love myself...

I don't frequent Starbucks.  I might get a pedicure once or twice a year, but now that I can reach my own toes, I prefer doing them myself when I have the time.  I don't recreationally shop.  I don't buy things off the Internet.  I don't pay for Botox or even get my hair cut more than twice a year.  And, yes, this is a pathetic attempt to justify why I thought it was a good idea to sign up for a massage membership, of which I cannot back out of for a whole year!  #FirstWorldProblems

Knowing I can't back out of my agreement STRESSES ME OUT.  Ironic.  Maybe I should get a massage?

Do I realize I could use that money each month to save starving children?  CLEARLY!

Do I realize I could use that money each month to end slave trafficking?  YES!

Do I realize I could use that money each month to send underprivileged kids to school?  UM, YEAH!

Do I realize what could be done with that money each month?  We all have ideas of how it could be spent.  I get it.

And this is ridiculous.  

There is something to be said about SIMPLIFYING. DOWNSIZING. CREATING MARGIN. SAYING NO, EVEN TO THINGS THAT APPEAR TO BE GOOD.

I'm so disgusted with myself for making an emotional financial decision that I think I'll give some of the massages away...if I'm allowed to.  

Having the "membership" hanging over my head just isn't as relaxing as it sounds.

#Hashtag Series, Part 1

#FirstWorldProblems

This series isn't going to be pretty.

I'm not writing it for you.

I'm writing it for me, as I stand in front of the mirror, a slap in my own face.  I need a renewed reality check.  I need a swift kick in the pants...

If your face stings, turn the other cheek.

(Remember, I am saying this to myself in the mirror, hence "you" and "I"...don't accuse me of accusing you, please.)

"Adrienne, you have #FirstWorldProblems.  Seriously.  Let's take the obvious:  You are looking in the mirror at yourself in what Westerners call a 'master bathroom' which is conveniently located next to your 'walk-in closet' where you own 7 pair of jeans of which you complain do not fit on your chubby thighs which are that way because you live in America where you have access to more processed food than any country in the world.  Actually, living in America doesn't make you chubby.  Stop making excuses.  Your choices to eat processed foods, especially your known allergens, make you chubby.  Stop blaming it on America.  America has her own problems.  In Cambodia your place of residence would easily house 75 people.  That could be 75 young girls, Emily's age, who have been sold into sex slavery because their parents can't afford to feed and keep them, let alone send them to school.  Em's 9 and 3/4.  The world is a sick place.  You are sad Em's turning 10.  Be thankful you have a daughter who is healthy and doesn't even know what sex really is except for roosters, chickens and eggs.  You have a pantry near your kitchen.  A pantry is a closet or cupboard which houses abundance and resources.  You have 18 drawers in your kitchen, 21 cupboards.  Cold water.  Water that comes out of a tap or fridge.  You have options.  Water you didn't have to walk 6 miles to get for your family.  You went to college for four years and your loans are paid off.  You got to choose where you attended school (well, sorta...that's another story...) Your daughter goes to a highly sought after Outward Bound school.  Yes, your husband is having an "affair" with his stupid iPhone, but only because he's always been a nerd when it comes to technology.  Be thankful you have a husband who loves you and has always been faithful.  Yes, there is laundry everywhere.  Be thankful you aren't naked.  You have clothes.  Too many clothes.  Give some away...then you will not have as much laundry.  Yes, there are toys everywhere.  You have a toddler.  Be grateful he is alive and healthy and makes messes.  Get rid of some of his toys...he doesn't need them all...certainly there are kids out there who could use some.  Forget about the broccoli ground into the bottom of your tennis shoe.  Be grateful he has a good arm and is strong enough to throw food.  Be grateful you have food to give to your children each day.  The reason you have dirty dishes piled up is because you have food to feed your family...or you have too many dishes...give some dishes away.  And all that stuff on your desk.  What about all that?  Will you really read all those books or is it simply a good intention?  Give some away.  Stop feeling overwhelmed that you don't have enough time to do whatever it is you think you need to do and prioritize.  Get some perspective, Adrienne!  Stop standing in front of the refrigerator with the door open, wondering WHAT ON EARTH you're going to make for dinner.  Stop whining because you have to run to the grocery store for the third time this week...because by "run" I mean you have a car...and by "grocery store" I mean one of 5 within a 5 mile radius...and by "third time this week" I mean maybe you should start meal planning.  Be grateful you have food...in a refrigerator...at all.  And back to this mirror.  What do you see?  How long, Adrienne?  How long will you sing this song of not loving yourself?  He made you who you are on purpose.  Stop squeezing the backs of your arms, your thighs, your belly, and just make the healthy choices you already know how to make.  #FirstWorldProblems.  Maybe one of your #FirstWorldProblems is that you have too many choices?  In Uganda or Kenya or Bangladesh or Guatemala or Haiti or Sudan or Papau New Guinea the moms aren't asking, "What will we have for dinner?" with the same voice inflection you are asking it.  You are wondering, "Hmmmm....should we have salmon or chicken on the grill...with grilled or sauteed or oven roasted veggies and olive oil and garlic."  They are wondering, "WHAT, if anything, will we have for dinner?"  Get over yourself.  Seriously, Adrienne, get over yourself.  You have #FirstWorldProblems.  Be thankful.  Be generous.  Nothing you call "your own" is yours.  Nothing.  Not even your own life.  It's His.  You gave it to Him long ago.  I'm pretty sure in your own insecurity and struggle for control, you have taken yourself back.  You are not your own.  You were bought with a price.  Close your eyes.  Put out your hands.  Surrender.  Ask Him to lead the way.  Stop trying to drag God around on a leash.  Slip your hand into His and walk with Him.  He is faithful.  He will lead you.  He sees the bigger picture.  Remember?  Why do you forget to remember sometimes?!  He sees the bigger picture.  He sees the #FirstWorldProblems and the #ThirdWorldProblems.  He died for me so I would know freedom from this world...not that I wouldn't face problems, but so I would know Who to run to with my problems...and so I'd know what are actual "problems" and which things are problems I create for myself because I live in the First World."