I learned that line from a little cheery song as a kid in Sunday School, but I wish I had recalled it, and what is more, put it into practice last night. Life was running along smoothly up until then, as it always seems to, until the volcano explodes. I was feeling very good about my accomplishments and growth. Then, I met the "Aspartame Fascist." (For those of you who aren't familiar with Aspartame, pronounced more like "Asper-tame," it's a brand of synthetic sweeter.)
My husband and I went to the store in the early evening to grab a few items, and while we were there, I remembered that I was running out of yogurt. So I went, amiably, to see what random assortment of flavors awaited me. I was delighted! The fat-free Yoplait yogurts, I noticed, happened to specifically announce that they're gluten-free on the back. And I loved several of the flavors. I picked up a couple of the Boston Cream-- my absolute favorites-- and noticed that there were other yummy looking flavors, too, like Strawberry Shortcake and Key Lime Pie. I was in heaven!
And then a sharp, nasally voice near me broke through my fond thoughts. In an italicized superior tone, a woman next to me announced-- because it really wasn't a question-- "So, you like your ASPARTAME, huh?" I couldn't have been more stunned if she'd slapped me. I'm usually a more shy person, and shrink away from confrontation. However, I collected myself and stood my ground.
"I like that it's *gluten-free*." The woman next to me muttered incoherently to herself, so I thought the moment had passed. I was not thus to be so lucky. She, again, took it upon herself to interrupt my thoughts.
"Gluten-free... gluten-free...You're allergic to gluten?!"
Still wondering why this lady is taking it upon herself to have a vested interest in my Yoplait yogurt choices, I responded that why yes, I was allergic to gluten.
Again, more mumbling. Then I realized she'd said something that she obviously expected me to answer. She repeated herself. "What is gluten" Is it dairy-related?" Yes, I thought, that's exactly why I'm buying Yogurt. *rolls eyes*
"Gluten is found in wheat, oats, barley, rye..."
"Well," she deigned to oblige me this concession, "I suppose that's different."
Now, I was trying to be nice, but my temper was a bit flared at this point, and so I responded in italics, "I don't particularly care for Aspartame, but the NON-Fat-free version is not gluten-free. " ...Whereby I proceeded to show the woman the back of the labels... showing her the "gluten-free" label on the blue version vs. the not-existent label on the "pink label," slightly more fuller fat version. She was dumbfounded over this.
"Well, I read somewhere about Aspartame... " More random muttering about the evils of Aspartame.
At this point, my husband came back over and I started to walk away with him, the Aspartame Lady sort of following us. I quietly explained to him that I didn't even want the yogurts anymore... However, the woman, clearly following our conversation-- which is admirable, considering that I have a very quiet voice-- smugly finished my sentence, "Now that I'VE Added my two cents, huh?"
I didn't end up buying the yogurt. I asked my husband go put it back for me, since I couldn't have enjoyed it then. It's so funny now, but I was *not* a happy camper by any means at the time. Nobody gets between me and my gluten-free, fat-free yogurt, especially when I'm still in the negative caloric count from working out in the gym. The nerve of that woman! I think if I could do it all over again, I'd give the crazy woman a big smile and be like "MMMMMMM, Ymmmm, ASPARTAME!" ;-)
However, by the time my husband and I had reached the parking lot, I'd completely lost it. I was so mad, I used several colorful phrases to describe that meddling busybody-- words I hadn't used, even thought of, in a very long time. My husband's eyes flashed dangerously, but I was beyond caring. A few more strings of harsh adjectives and I'd calmed down enough to realize how much trouble I was in. That realization cooled me down completely. I blanched as my husband held the car door open, and remained fairly quiet the rest of the way home.
In the time between the store and our home, I was so furious, I started to cry silent and hot tears. (Sadly, this is the only time I ever cry... when I'm mad.) Then, it suddenly dawned on me why the whole stupid incident bothered me so much. The woman was like my mother. Growing up, everything I had done had been wrong, or inadequate, or something along the lines of "you know, honey, if you had done it *this* way..." My mother was the superior type who always inserted herself into random people's conversations or personal situations, feeling that her calling in life was to make sure people kept from making the wrong decisions... usually their own... and saw the light. Nevertheless, I knew that this in no way exonerated my horrid behavior.
At home, my husband and I had a little conversation, in which I shared these things with him. Nevertheless, our talk was thus followed by a very somber session over his knee. Until he could find proper soap-- and he assured me that he *would* find the Miracle soap that had been recommended-- the sting of the spanking would have to suffice. Lest anyone thing him too merciful in this, because to me a mere spanking would seem to be more than lenient, let me assure my reader that by the time it was over, my bottom and thighs (a very, very tender spot for me) had been thoroughly chastised. I never beg my husband to stop, but I did so several times before it was over. The last time I asked, my husband had, gently but firmly, gathered up my long hair in his grasp and pulled my head closer to his. His eyes were loving, but very firm. With his free hand, he put a single finger over his lips, indicating no more requests. It was hard to do, but I complied, and tried very hard to give myself over to the correction. Several whimpers and half-sobs still tore from my throat.
I learned an important lesson, though: Be careful, little mouth, what you say.
6 Comments
ann
26/3/2009 01:42:14 am
who disciplines the man when he is verbally abusive or misbehaves.....husbands are to lead their wives emotionally NOT physically and most definitely now with his physical rod.....a man is to only discipline his child or servant.....
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lovinghusband
26/3/2009 02:13:18 am
To Ann:
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Traditional Wife
26/3/2009 02:20:34 am
Allow me to address the comments above.
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Tricia
28/3/2009 01:24:30 am
Dear Traditional Wife.
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Dear Traditional Wife,
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Traditional Wife
30/3/2009 03:52:48 am
Tricia -- Thank you so much. Indeed, I am a very lucky wife to be blessed with a wonderful, Traditional Marriage. My Husband is the love of my life. I am very blessed, also, that he is both my best friend and my Lord and Master. (Although I don't generally call him this to his face. :))
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