The Guest Posts Continue…

…as the Queen continues to pout around her house, please welcome Sara…she rocks.

I didn’t realize when I agreed to guest post that my fellow B.O.O.B. and real-life pal Velveteen Mind would be going before me. I made the mistake of reading her post before starting my own, and that little voice of doubt immediately began to creep in. You are going to look like such a dork posting your ramblings after they have read her spectacular-as-usual musings. She is so thoughtful and so talented, how can you hope to follow an act like that?

My inner voice is quite the critical bitch.

For the longest time I gave in to it. Minor incidents that should have never fazed me became proof positive that I was just a bumbling idiot, and no one could possibly like me. I was once plainly snubbed at a children’s birthday party because my husband was not in the military, when we lived in a neighborhood full of Air Force officers. After finding out my husband was *gasp* a civilian, she literally turned and walked away. What I should have done was yanked the snobby bitch back by her poorly bleached highlights and told her to fuck off, my husband makes more money than yours ever will and didn’t have to sign over his life to the government to do it. Instead I shrank into a corner and didn’t try to talk to anyone else the entire rest of the afternoon, telling myself clearly I didn’t fit in. It wasn’t her that was wrong, it was me, or so I let myself think.

I’m sorry to say that moment followed me for a good long time. After we moved to the town we live in now, I didn’¬Ęt put much of any effort into make friends for the first two years. Popping out two boys in two years kept me busy, and in between I felt too awkward to attempt it. That inner voice kept rearing her head, telling me it was no use, no one here would like me anyways.

I’m not sure what finally changed, other than maybe I began to figure out nothing would ever happen by sitting back and waiting for friends to magically appear on my doorstep. I joined a playgroup, which in itself ended on a slightly disastrous note, but in the process I met a few awesome friends. I started to push myself to get out, to talk to people, and to get involved. In a moment of yet-to-be-determined bravery or stupidity, I even joined our school PTA board. Forcing myself to get out around people seems to help with my confidence, so I just keep doing it more and more.

As much as I like to think I’m beyond it, the self doubt catches up with me at times. In my mind the voice is attached to a bad set of bleached highlights, and for the first time in my life I think I’m finally able to face her properly and tell the bitch where to shove it. I’ll let the rest of the world worry about criticizing me; I’ve got better things to do.



  1. It’s so hard to jump in there and get to know others, but joining groups like this are a great way to meet a variety of people!

  2. I’ve lived in WA St for almost 18 years now. I have birthed two children here, had a miscarriage, purchased and sold two houses, gone through several different cars currently a 2006 Honda Civic(the so NOT a mommy car) thou hubby’s 1996 Mercedes was just declared totaled by our insurance, been a member of 4 different PTA’s, kids have gone through pre school, elementary, middle and high school. I really only have one true and trustworthy friend who works full time, has a developmentally disabled 17yo and new bf so it’s like we never met recently. I understand the doubt. I have asked others who weren’t born here what kind of experiences they’ve had~about the same. Seattle (n)ice~polite on the outside….

  3. Amen sister!

    I know how hard it is not to be self-critical.

    The people around you say a lot about who you are. And you have some kick-ass friends.
    But I say screw that fake blonde bitch.

  4. I feel this way all the time. Why is it so hard to make friends as an adult?

  5. I hear you! I’m an Army Brat myself (and as an aside I’m appalled that you would be treated as you were by “the wives club”) and grew up moving and making new friends my whole life.

    It was easy when I was younger. Moving to places where everyone had to make new friends.

    It’s hard now being the “only newbie” — it took me a good 3 years before I made any friends here in Atlanta.

  6. We are our own worst critics.

  7. I think it’s hard for all adults to put themselves out there and be friendly. My closest friends are two women I work with that are 20 years older than I am. I have other friends that are really just people I talk to every once in a while. There usually has to be some common ground for a really good friendship to form. In high school, it was high school. For me, now it is work. For you, you needed to find other women who might actually be in the same place at the same time on a regular basis. I’m actually quite happy with the friends I have now. I only have three or four that I would call true-friends, but their friendship means a lot to me.

  8. QueenWench Tammas says:

    Thank you for letting me know that I am not the only adult female who feels just like I did in elemantary school! :o) (Inner voice says’ “O, What a dork am I!”)

  9. Way to tell yourself, sugar!

  10. Good for you! Like Mr. Rogers always said, “What’s different about you is what makes you special.”

  11. Yeah, it’s not easy making friends as an adult like I’d thought it would be. It still feels like Jr. High.


  1. […] tonight I decided to wander out of Suburban Oblivion, and go play over at Queen of Spain’s blog. Go check it out, and tell me a little about your less-than-confident […]

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