Turns Out...the Devil Doesn't Wear Prada

The Devil actually wears white cotton hipsters from jockey, clothing from the Sears career wear section, and shoes from Payless. That's right - SHE is ME!

Yes, today I am taking on all of the labels, Devil (not) Wearing Prada, Queen of Mean, Psycho Bitch from Hell...you name it.

I've made allusions in recent posts about my natural bent toward bitchiness made worse when I need to travel, but let me own it - I am a bitch. In particular, I am a bitch to my husband. My bitchiness is a natural trait, but it is a little like compulsive eating (which I also do) it is without intent or malice. That doesn't make it any easier to take.

This is not a confession meant to cleanse my soul (I don't believe one can erase a sin simply by telling someone about it - white collar or not) but it is my attempt to recognize and to change something I'm not happy with. Today, after my unprovoked snarky outburst, my husband actually had the guts to say to me I was mean, just mean, MEAN. How ugly. Not him for saying it, but me for causing it. Then later, he said he was tired and felt like a punching bag. Ouch.

Honest, this is not an attempt for me to beat myself up. I truly was awful to him and for no good reason. Even now, hours later, I cannot imagine what got into me. This is probably not the right forum for this - I mean it's honest and all, but hubby does read this blog sometimes, and I don't know how he'll feel about me putting it out to the webisphere, but it's on my mind - and what I blog is the littlest things and the biggest things that are on my mind.

I was reading a book for school the other day - Personal Styles & Effective Performance - and it actually talks about how people must recognize social styles (behavior) in others and be versatile in adjusting to make things functional. It also says that this versatility take so much energy, and is so typically used in the work and public life, that personal time and life suffers.

"...it's important for couples to find constructive ways to release the pent-up tensions that accumulate during the day. Such outlets can prevent people from exploding at each other for no apparent reason, or equally destructive, from avoiding the relationship entirely."

"Ironically, we tend to take out our frustrations on those people who mean the most to us, because of the 'safety' implicit in an intimate relationship. There's an inclination to feel: 'This person has accepted me as I am, for what I am. Therefore, I don't have to try as hard to please.'

Does this make me feel any better? more justified in my behavior? No. Does it give me any ideas on how to fix it? The book suggests exercise or meditation - um...yeah...should be doing that for lots of reasons so I'll give exercise another try. And maybe some Yoga again.

In the meantime, let me start with this.

An apology.

A truly deeply heartfelt apology to my man.

Since I was 19 years old he's been the center of my universe. He may think that I am my own center - but it's all a big show.

He is it. He's my best friend, my love, my history, my future.

He's the one who tells me I look beautiful when I have no makeup on, a bandanna on my head, and a much too tight old college t-shirt and shorts on, stained with god knows what. He's the one who tells me I look great and I don't need to lose any weight. He's the one who thinks I'm good, sexy, smart, funny, talented. He's the one who will order mild wings because I can't endure the hot ones (even though he loves it hot). He's the one who maintains the boiler, the pool, the washing machine, takes out the garbage - but he also does most of the cooking and irons his own clothes. He takes care of his family and mine. He's a phenomenal host and a truly gracious and kind person. He's smart - really smart - and he loves to learn, which is a real turn on. He watches chick flicks with me and doesn't require an equal number of shoot-em-up testosterone films. He listens...really listens...when I want to talk. And when I don't...he's cool with that too. He giggles like a little kid when I tickle his feet - and though he doesn't let me do it often - it's always a treat to hear it.

In short, he brings me and others joy every day.

So, in recognition of all he is and all he does, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for doubting you. I'm sorry for attacking you. I'm sorry for working late and falling asleep on the couch too many nights. I'm sorry I don't/can't cook for you like you cook for me. I'm sorry for forgetting all the incredible things you do when I get pissy about any little thing. I don't ask for total absolution here, just hoping that tomorrow - you'll smile at me/with me again.

Cuz today royally sucked and tomorrow...yeah it's a special day...and I don't want to believe I might have spoiled it too.

In approximately one hour it will be October 14th, 2007. Exactly 18 years ago to the day that you waited at the altar while I walked toward you on my sweet Dad's arm. You said "I Do" so fervently that the congregation actually giggled. Thanks for hanging in with me through it all. You've been a great husband and a true partner. You've been there when my "anxious moments" have seemed overwhelming, and you help me remember all the good times we've had along the way. Together we make an unbeatable team.

I love you - forever and a day.