Not My Job

“Don’t Judge a Book by it’s Cover”

We have all heard this one before.  In fact, it’s one of my favorite things about having kids. Kids really don’t judge…I mean mine put raspberries on their fingers and fake brushing their teeth.  They think it’s cool when I can’t (won’t)  brush my hair for 4 days.  (because it is so tangle-y and I just keep putting conditioner in it.  See- I have to justify to you.)

raspberries

When do we get judgey?  Middle school maybe?  Whenever it started, I want it to stop.  It is not our job to judge.

Here is a story of how I judged a book by it’s cover…

I went to get a mani/pedi about a month ago to the salon I always go to.  I only go once a year.  (I’ll address white lies another day).  Anyway, there was a new person working and I immediately felt stiffed.  First of all, I wasn’t sure who this person was.  Actually, I wasn’t sure if this human was a man or a woman.  (The girl who usually does my mani wears a lot of smoky eye makeup and wears really high heels with pink and orange polka dots on them.  I like to think we have a lot in common.  we don’t.  remember i can’t even brush my hair.)  This person had on very loose jeans and a baggy tshirt, and sebagos.  Yes sabagos.  Remember those?  When I asked for a name.  The reply was, “Terry.”  Of course it is.  SNL, and the Pat character rushed to my head.  I assume my nails and toes aren’t going to look good, and see my chinadollsuperstar across the way chatting it up with another client.

Terry starts to talk to me, and I talk back.  I notice she (yes she) has these really warm brown eyes, and a really infectious laugh.  She feels how cold my hands and feet are, and warms up towels in the microwave to wrap around me.  Terry offers to make coffee to warm me up.  When my nails are drying under the heater (instead of the fans because she insisted I would be too cold), she turns the pages of a Vogue for me and comments on every outfit.  I am madly in love with her, and feel horribly guilty for judging.  I tell my mom all about my new BFF, and she goes and loves her too.   Terry even remembered me and told my mom all about her “cold daughter.”

I feel the need to go see Terry once a week.  Not only because she files, buffs, and polishes like nobody’s business.  But because I feel like she is a friend.  Today I helped her pick out a washer and dryer…she didn’t know about scratch and dent.  (and for the record, I have no idea what smokycateyeplatformshoes name is.)  (I’d also like to ask who keeps this “record” we all add to?)

I should know better than to judge others.  I have been judged all my life for one reason or another.  My weight, my gender, my choices.  I know how it feels.  Even as an adult, I seen the shock on people’s faces if I say I am a yoga teacher.  (because I am not thin)  I have heard locker room chatter about how some are shocked and impressed with me being able to hold arm balances…despite my size.  Seeing those faces, and hearing those comments bring me right back to middle school, where you get all judgey.  I do not want to repeat middle school.  I want people to see me for my heart, my humor, and my love.

I am going to make a conscious effort not to judge others.

It’s not my job.  

nails

Dying laughing. I almost didn’t post this picture. I was modeling my fall mani with my Pokerface, my Pokerface, mymyPokerface.  I knew you wouldn’t judge me.

“Be quick to judge yourself and slow to judge others.”  –Bosch

 

“But the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Do not look at his appearance or at the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.  –1 Samuel 16:7

 

“I am not the color of my eyes.  I am not the skin on the outside.  I am not my age.  I am not my race.  My soul inside…Is all light.”

–India Arie  “I am Light”  

 

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One thought on “Not My Job”

  1. This is so true. We are all so judgrmental to each other. People look at me like I’m crazy when I tell them I love to run half marathons ps I’m no skinny mini.

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