One Awkward Lenten Sacrifice

Hi! Remember me? Nope? Didn’t think so.

So my new year’s resolution for 2011 was to write more. To start submitting to websites, magazines, and then by the end of 2011 I’d have a book deal, to published the following year and Oprah would pick it as her Book Club Pick for December 2012, her final selection before The Mayan Apocalypse End Of The World (12/21/12 – are you prepared?!) and I’d go out with a bang. (I mean, we’ll all go out with a bang, but mine will be loudest.)

It’s not going so well.

I shouldn’t find this surprising. My resos in 2010 were to stop biting my nails and go to the dentist and I did neither of those things. (God, I’m sexy.) Admittedly my now rotten teeth have helped curb the nail chomping sitch but I think it’s fair to say I’m not the best at keeping resolutions. Luckily New Years is always quickly followed Lent, which is a time when you can revamp your failed new years resolutions into something slightly different, with a holy twist. So for the next 40 days, or I guess like 32 days, whoops late to the party, I’m going to tryyyy to blog again. So exciting, right?! Thanks for being crucified, Jesus!

Lent was pretty much my favorite holiday in high school, after Halloween, when I annually dominated the costume contest, and Christmas, when I would wear battery operated Christmas lights and tinsel around my neck, because it allowed me a ton of opportunities to pander for attention. I went to a public high school and, like many good girls in small towns, I dabbled in religion in my youth.  I attended meetings of the Cool Campus Crusaders or whatever, learned the hand motions to Christian rock songs (ooooof), bought cute crucifixes at Claire’s. Nun in training for suuuure. I even assistant taught a Sunday school class, but that, no duh, was only enjoyable because sometimes one of the cute lil 6th graders would tell me I had pretty hair or cool shoes or ask me for advice on whether or not they should give their boyfriend a hand job at the movie theater and I’d be all “haha what?! No really, what’s a hand job?” and then they’d go off to the movies and touch their little boyfriends little dingdongs and I’d go home and watch “Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman” with my mom and think proudly about what a role model I was to those children.

So obviously religion is HUGE for me and I especially used to get into it during the holy Lenten season. I’d start off on Ash Wednesday by going to mass before school, so I could walk around all day with the ashes on my forehead and everyone would be all “Omg! Liz! You beacon of Christ’s light!” and they would think I was SO cool and deep and holy and then on Fridays I’d storm around the cafeteria, loudly bemoaning the lack of meatless options, “fine I guess I’ll just settle on this tuna salad, not like this ass-backwards school has any respect for the catholic kids around here it is just SO HARD being a minority!” and the one black kid in the school (literally!) would be like “Preach!” and my friends would, with genuine curiosity, ask me why Catholics give up meat and I’d smugly reply, “Jesus was a fisherman, duh.”

Still the best/only answer I can come up with. I’m so excited to spend this most special of holy times with you! Tuna salad for everyone.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “One Awkward Lenten Sacrifice

  1. I’m surprised it took you 8 whole days to give up on no caffeine and switch to more blogging as your Lenten

  2. I thought of your blog on Sunday. I got stuck in a dress at Target. The zipper apparently separated while I was zipping it up. After 5 good minutes of struggling in the dressing room alone, and working up quite a sweat, I had to finally ask the attendant for help. Thank god I’d showered that morning and shaved my pits, as it was a side zipper and poor attendant basically had her face in my armpit for 10 minutes. And you know how the dressing room entranceways are sort of open to the entire store… yeah. Cue me wanting to yell, “it’s not too tight, the zipper broke because it’s shite, not because I’m a fatarse!!!!”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s