Diary Of A Crybaby............

I've always considered myself to have a very delicate emotional scale.  On a scale of 1 to 10, I do best when I'm riding somewhere in the middle......lets say 3-7 on the emotional scale is my "happy" spot.  Any number too low and I'm crying because I'm sad.  Any number too high and I'm crying because I'm happy.  Now I know that some people would just call this being a "drama queen"......but I don't see it that way.  I've always said I'm just sensitive.....and I'm going to stand by that. 

On Memorial Day, Charlie took my nieces fishing.  I never would have thought my sweet ballerina nieces to be the fishing kind-of girls.....but whatever.  Monday afternoon Charlie was telling me the story of how my oldest niece cried and cried for seemingly no reason because the hook basically touched her skin.  He said there was no blood and no mark on her skin....yet she cried hysterically anyway.  To his small male brain, this episode seemed "dramatic".  (side note - I just love how everything women do seems "dramatic" to men)  Then, with a most most serious look on his face, he turned to me and said, "actually, it reminded me a lot of you".  Okay, maybe I should have been insulted by his cheap attempt at an insult......but I felt a sense of pride in my niece.......a "that's-my-girl" sorta pride.  AND I realized I didn't have a valid argument when just the previous night I had been standing up in the middle of my bed screaming Charlie's name while clutching a pillow pet and my blankie because the cat pounced "something.....probably a mouse or a lizard"......aka a paper wad.  Anyway, the whole conversation brought back floods of memories of my childhood fishing endeavors.  And all I have to say is bless my dad and my papaw's hearts.  After recounting all the things that made me cry and telling my husband, I began to realize.......maybe, just maybe I am a crybaby.  So.....judge for yourself......Charlie said he would have thrown me in the pond.  After he tied the weights around my limbs. 

I cried.......

• When I had to walk in tall grass......because the snakes in National Geographic ate people
• When a mosquito bit me.....bloody vampires
• When I was thirsty
• When I was tired
• When the sun was too bright
• When I was sweating
• When I was getting a sunburn
• When I even thought a tick may be crawling on me.....full break down ensued when an actual tick was spotted.
• When someone cast their line too close to me.....as I was scared of getting "hooked"
• When I cast my own line.....as I was afraid of hooking myself
• When I had to pee in the woods.....and subsequently peed down my leg and into my shoe....accidents happen
• When we didn't quit fishing and go home when I was ready to go......because it was all about me
• When a sweat bee buzzed near me.....again, full on break down when a sweat bee stung....because they hurt worse than a bumble bee
• When daddy/papaw took the fish home and refused to let them go......murderers
• When I cast my line into the tree behind me for the billionth time.....and the powers-that-be made me leave it there because they were sick of practically climbing said tree to untangle me
• When I kept jerking my pole with the tangled-in-the-tree-line after I was repeatedly told to stop.....and broke it.  The wrath of daddy/papaw was swift and vicious. 
• When I saw "innocent worms being tortured and murdered by the man" to lure fish in
• When I saw a fish with a hook in its mouth.....the horror of someone wanting to stab something in the mouth with what looked like barbed wire and then rip it out equals cruelty of the worst kind.....and the "let-me-stick-the-hook-in-your-mouth-and-rip-it-out argument just got me dirty looks considering their patience had been exhausted
• When I fell the one time and broke my tail bone
• When I fell the other 749 times and no bone was broken
• When I got bored and and started drawing figure-8's and happy faces in the water with the end my pole and was told "for the last time" to stop
• When giant, man-eating grasshoppers jumped right in front of me.......and startled me with their fangs and ginormous wings
• When my cousins chased me with a worm
• When I had an asthma attack and ended up sitting on the bank puffing on my inhaler.....then crying when the albuterol made me jittery. 
• When everyone eventually moved to the other side of the pond to get away from me

I asked my dad if he remembered me being a big crybaby.  His reply?  "Yes.....and you still are".  I believe I was misunderstood.  Maybe fishing wasn't for me.  And maybe, just maybe, I needed a smack.  All I know is had there been a Lady GaGa back in the day, I would have been standing in the back of the truck (away from snakes and worms and man-eating, snarling grasshoppers) singing Beautiful, Dirty Rich into my fishing pole.....aka microphone.  While wearing a tiara.  And cheap plastic beaded jewerly in shades of pink, purple, and blue (you girls know what I'm talking about).  All for dramatic emphasis.  Because I probably am a drama queen.  And a crybaby.  And I'm okay with that.