I’m Too Lazy to be Wonder Woman
I held it in my hands. My name on the cover. My story. Getting the
acceptance call had been dance-on-the-table exciting. But this … wow! I was a
published author.
My book launch came at the Austin Book Festival that year. My publisher put
me up in a hotel room and was paying for everything. I felt big time! All I had
to do was get there. So, I loaded my suitcase and my sister into the car and
off we went to the Lone Star State.
The festival was surreal. Books, publishers, authors everywhere, and I
was a small part of it. The real buzz of the festival was the main speaker,
Lemony Snicket. I’m at the same event
as Lemony Snicket! Granted I was tucked into the booth of a small publisher,
and no one except said publisher had a clue who I was, but I was a writer with
a published book. I belonged!
People strolled by. Some glanced over, some stopped, but not many. They
were in search of writers and books they’d actually heard of - bigger fish.
All children attending had been given autograph books. And, of course,
the coveted autograph was Lemony Snicket’s. Toward the end of the day, one
mother and daughter strolled down the aisle. The child was in agony. They’d
missed Lemony. As they came toward me, I
could hear Mom transitioning from sympathy to “it’s time to get over it.” They
paused in front of our booth.
Mom said, “Lemony Snicket is gone. You can’t get his autograph. Get this
lady’s instead.”
The child and I locked eyes. Slowly she held out her precious autograph
book to me. I took it, opened it to a blank page and signed my name. I handed
it back, not a word exchanged between us.
Then Mom added salt to the festering wound with, “Say thank you.”
“Thank you,” the child mumbled before Mom hustled her away.
I’ve often wondered what happened to that autograph, one of my first. Did
the autograph book get kicked under the car seat until Dad threw it away in a
fit of spring cleaning? Or, maybe the little girl waited until Mom wasn’t
looking and ripped out the offending page? I like to think the little book got
tucked away somewhere to be found years later. The little girl, now a young
woman, fondly paging through it until she stumbles upon my signature and again
wonders, Who the heck was that lady?
Who was that lady? Just me. Just myself. And in a world where
advertisements, daytime talk shows, and too-many-to-mention articles exhort us
to change our fashion, beliefs, and looks, it’s kind of hard to hold onto our
own identity. Because in our minds, just being ourselves never seems quite good
enough.
How unhappy we become trying to live up to the world’s definition of
success. We are told, as women, we can have it all and do it all. We exhaust
ourselves trying to be the perfect mother, wife, employee, friend, caretaker,
housekeeper, Christian, etc., etc., etc.
And somewhere in all that chaos, we are even supposed to squeeze in a
little “me” time.
And you know what? I’m too tired to try anymore. In other words, I’m too
lazy to be Wonder Woman.
That’s right. I admit it! I am not perfect. My house isn’t spotless. I
will never be a gourmet cook. My clothes are more in the realm of “comfortable”
than “stylish.” And, I’m okay with that. Those things aren’t important to me.
No, I’m not perfect. Even so, I continually strive to become a better
wife, Christian, and friend. Things that are important to me.
Wonder Woman might be able to save the day. Sometimes I’m happy to just
get through the day.
I’m not Lemony Snicket. But I’m a pretty darn good version of me. As this
blog grows, hopefully you’ll find a good laugh. Hopefully, you’ll find
something you can relate to. If nothing else, you’ll realize none of us are
perfect.
Being perfect is overrated. What’s important is –
I am
A woman formed by God’s hands,
Shaped by His love,
And saved by His sacrifice
And so are you.
- Susan York Meyers