Pirate Marie

You need to know something about me. In order for our relationship to move on, I feel I must present all sides, so you can jump in with both feet if you desire, or -- you know -- halt and turn back, screaming and running for the hills.

First, a disclaimer: you know those one people who are just so good -- so truly, honestly, naturally, innately good that you are kinda envious and want to be just like them? The people who are kind seemingly without effort, who are obedient in a way that can only be a gift?

That is not me.

Nope! Nope! Never has been. I am only nice because my dear Mother -- bless her -- drilled it into me as a child "Kill 'em with kindness, kill that bigawfulevilgreen bully with kindness!" (For the record: I paraphrased her advice.) And I'm not so much good by nature as I have a great desire to be good. You know in the scriptures when it talks about gifts of the spirit and some have the desire to believe? That's me. I'm never going to be General Relief Society President. I am not really good. Not so much obedient. But I want to be. And the Lord and I have talked a lot about this -- I have gone through certain times in my life when I've thought, "Seriously, He must hate me. I am so freaking annoying." But after my little wrestle before Him -- He's let me know; It's Okay. I'm just me. And He knows me. Really well. And He still loves me. And even likes me -- so, you know, that's impressive.

So I'm okay with myself.

That's why I can share the following information with you, and I'll feel a little lighter in the chest having put the ball in your court.
We have all established that sometimes, when I'm a little kooky and crazy like a beast, I swear. I mean, I use language my dear Mother -- bless her -- would not approve of. Honestly, she didn't raise me to do it. She raised me to be a lady. But I just... I'm weak. Okay!? So I do it. But only sometimes.
But here's what you really need to know:

When I was like -- I don't know, circa the 3rd grade -- I became friends with a really nice girl named Andrea. Now Andrea came from a little bit of a rougher home. Let's face it, they swore like sailors. But she was so nice, and her parents were really nice, too. And my Mom would sometimes let me play at their house, and when I did -- I swore like a sailor, too! I mean, not just the words I sometimes heard my Dad say when he'd injure himself. I mean, I would swear. And I was totally accountable, too. I was way old enough to know better, but it just felt so -- wild -- that I really liked it. (Can we still be friends?) After a few weeks; however, I realized the error of my ways and wanted to go back to the sweet little L.D.S. girl I was meant to be. But... it was hard! It was really hard not to let those delightful, catchy words fly out of my mouth. So I formulated a plan: Every time I swore, I would slap myself. Hard. Right across the face. Now in order for this plan to work, I needed to mean it. I had to really want to change. And I had to slap hard.

Which I proceeded to do.

I slapped myself so hard that I almost knocked myself out on more then one occasion. And sure enough! Within a week, the last thing that ever came out of my mouth was a cuss word! Frankly, I'm not sure how my defensive reflexes allowed me to do it to myself... it was incredibly painful. But I did it. I was strong. I was young, and strong, and probably destined for greatness (I was not lacking in self esteem as a child, please believe me).

That's my confession. And obviously, I am not completely cured. I wonder if it's like being an alcoholic -- as in, I can never consider myself anything but a swearer? Could someone please direct me to the Cursers Anonymous meeting?