As well meaning as our parents probably were, I'm always curious if they are cognizant of their effect on our lives.

Now, here's where you're thinking I'm going to launch into a philosophical discussion about the importance of those who share a DNA resemblance with us... hardly. I'm feeling much too superficial for anything so... trite.

I'm wondering if our parents, and to a larger degree those who surround us but lack similar genetics, realize how important even the smallest words can be. How a person can take a certain combination of words and morph them into something so unexpected, it blindsides you completely even years later. How a look, or lack thereof, can become a still frame in your memory, preserved, compressed and technicolor-ed.

Again, I'm sure one is expecting a much bigger follow up than what's about to happen. But I figure that's the purpose of this, right? I've heard (read) this described as an electronic confessional. So what's the use in not using it to it's full advantage? Why censor myself just because I'm afraid others will find me crazier than they already think I am? Why let myself care if anyone finds my rantings stale and banal? My self-centeredness is amusing... even to me. So if I prefer to be selfish by way of my electronic confessional, so be it.

Moving along. What I was writing about before is somewhat ambiguous. I clearly did not define what I was talking about by any stretch of the imagination. Probably on purpose, but that's another discussion entirely. The pea that prompted this discussion is, in fact, a date.

A date. As in with a person of the opposite sex where one is picked up, taken to dinner, to a movie and then home. Not a "let's hang out... as friends... and maybe we'll make out later." An honest-to-goodness date. And for once in my life, this date has no girlfriend, homocidal tendencies, no wife, and no leanings toward those of the same sex. Could be a fluke. Or I could actually be sticking to my list. But I digress. Though two three-hour phone conversations have been completed in no less than 4 8 hours as well as 1.5 hours spent making witty chit-chat on instant messenger... not to mention tonight's ongoing phone calls... we have yet to meet. My date is a friend of a friend. So our date will be blind.

And here's where the beginning of this rant ties in. I have, stored away in my head, snippets of speech from my father, brother and various others. In this particular storage bin are comments relating to my appearance. All of them revolving around my 'pretty face' but 'lackluster body.' The specifics are not worth repeating. They get enough airtime in my head. But you can see where my issue sleeps, right? My date has seen a picture of my face but not a complete photograph. Years of practice have shown me the right way to hold my head, dip my chin, crinkle my eyes and smile just right-- all in attempt in disguising the fact that my body doesn't match my face. Or so the evil demon says that drags up battered old storage bins from the dusty recesses of my mind. I even made a girl-esque phone call to a friend of mine, inquiring on what outfit was the most slimming. Not what outfit was the cutest, the most appropriate, the most fun.... but the most slimming.

How have I let these ridiculous comments rule my life? Where did it change from being just a random comment, to a comment I base my life on? And WHY am I letting the comments of people, specifically men, more specifically men who are related to me, force me into a cage with no door? Because as soon as I open the floodgates, as soon as one thought manages to slip by... all the rest come pouring in. It's RIDICULOUS.

I have no thoughts on how to fix this. Following advice from my mother and friends, I could choose to be more confident. And, at times, I am. But I'm not sure how to escape the times when I am not. Do I seek out the confirmation of others? Or do I just recognize it and let it play itself out? Will it eventually become less of a surround sound and more of a background murmur?

So. I have no idea what to do. The date is planned. I am going. Maybe flash of light promoting less self-centeredness will cure all ailments. Ugh.