incredible egg

I was singing nursery rhymes with the kiddies and we came to Humpty Dumpty.

Poor thing. Had a big fall. Was it a change in his life? Did he feel low self worth because he wasn't a brown organic egg? Was he afraid of being made into an egg white omelet? He fell, and for whatever reason he was relying on some king and his horses to put him back together again. Silly egg.

Big fall, great fall... whatever you want to call it, the big guy was shattered.

It got me thinking. First off all, just because you fall, doesn't mean you won't get up. Of course, you might have some scuffs and bruises, a chip or two in the old shell, but falling down sometimes means that you were up too high to begin with. What the hell were you doing on that wall? Why wasn't someone there with you, why wasn't someone on the ground? Second, if you (or me or Humpty) are going to rely on someone to put you back together again, then honey you better start walking around in a padded suit and helmet. No one can put you back together but you. That's our self-worth responsibility. To take care of yourself, and have enough faith in yourself to know that you're the one who's best going to take care of you.

So, why am I sitting here pontificating on the most bio-available source of protein (btw I studied nutrition in college). Yeah, I fell off the wall. I was up too high. Precariously perched. No one sitting nearby, no one on the ground. When I fell off that wall, something amazing happened... my feet landed on the ground. I got a little abrasion on the elbow, skinned the knee, cracked a tooth and did a number on my knuckles. My Prada boots got all scuffed. Damnit. There was blood lost, maybe I cried a little, but I stuck the landing.

Now listen. Carefully. I want undoubtable unconditional love around me, and there's no way in hell I'm getting back on the wall. I look to my friends (you know who you are) for support, compassion and a bit of a reality check every so often (not to mention snacks like pie and proschiutto, perhaps some falafel). I look to Blue for strength, for staying power, for the unwavering reassurance that it'll all work out (already found out that mom is a no fly zone for that). All of these things are the figurative brushing off, the getting the gravel out of my knees and dirt off my pants. The taking the Prada boots for a shoe shine.

But at the end of the day, guess who's responsible for breaking out the Neosporin and Hello Kitty bandaids. ME.

I have love around me. My girlfriends (yes, you two, stand up), Blue, readers, a sister here or there...So much love that at times I think it's crazy (I mean, why do you guys love me so much?! I know I'm cute and all, but are you kidding?) Just joking. Sort of.

It's this love that gives me the strength to put myself together again. It's this love from all of you that makes the peroxide not sting like hell.

Now, can someone bring me some plain old band aids? Damn, Hello Kitty! If I'm gonna flip the king's men and horses the bird, I can't do it with a pink bandaid on my hand.