…Alphabetically Speaking: 26 posts to keep me writing.
I have started and stopped this post about a billion times. I bantered back and forth in my brain (since I was seeking expert advice) as to the most bewitching b word to use. It was burdensome, let me tell you. The list basically kept me awake (before bedtime) most nights.
There are just too many b words from which to choose.
For instance, if I chose Beauty as my b word, then what; would I bolster my “head to toe” perfection by beguiling you the benefits of being
dark beige blonde which I highly recommend to camouflage the stray grays that want to inhabit one’s head. Or I could brag about the many balms I have tried to keep the bags under my eyes at bay. I could possibly share the blessings of being “big boned” (another way of saying I have gained some unwelcome weight in the last 10 years). Next, I could broadcast the fact that the joints which connect my thighs to my calves really are the “bee’s knees”, however they, the knees, are not to be beat by the two (that’s right TWO) bulging, yet symmetrical bunions beside each big toe. No, Beauty will not be my b word.
I thought about blood for my b word, but then I remembered that is why I am a teacher and not a nurse like two of my sisters. Blood…In the seventh grade sometime between Biology and Bible Study, Sister Bertha Brimstone* behooved the class (mostly the boys) to stop leaning their chairs back on two legs. “You will bust your head open,” Sister blasted. Brian Billings* bent that bench back once too often.
BAM! Head bashes cast iron radiator. Blood blew from the back of his head. I buckled under the sight of the bulging wound boiling over his carrot-top buzz cut.
Brian and Beemie (me) were both sent home. He received a boat-load of stitches and I had to brave the look on the Milkman’s face at having to pick me up from school on his rare day off.
My own students today can quote this story every time someone boldly bends his chair back. Bellows of, “Remember Brian Billings” are echoed about the classroom; because no one wants to call 911 for a blacked-out teacher.
This next b word to barge in each time I tried to draft this post was busy… First, that b word busy barked that the job, which provides my biweekly income 10 monthes out of the year was the boss of my free time. Then this so-called busy life berated me with the need to clean the bathrooms and the rest of the house. Had I known the sewing machine and fabric would demonstrate blatant disrespect and bullying as each blocked my view of the keyboard then that b word busy could not be blamed.
Busy, I don’t know what it is like to not be busy. Somewhere in that “busy-ness” I attended a WNBA preseason basketball game and I celebrated Mother’s Day with brunch.
Finally, the b word that bounced around in bulk is the one I choose not to write as technically it is a blasphemous word to the female gender; especially to those of us with high expectations, the ability to defend oneself, and opinions that sometimes exit the mouth when one believes she’s right. The b word which rhymes with stitch, twitch, glitch, pitch, and other rich words; brings to mind another story from school, only fast forward 33 years.
A young man in my class, Barrister*, burdened himself with the daily task of reporting those who betrayed the student bi-laws. He disguised these breaches against basic justice in the form of a question. “Should people blowing bubbles with gum? …or …Why do people try to hide their blank homework sheets?” I am no Alex Trebek, so rewarding him with bonus points would not bolster his position with classmates; however it is always important to hear him out as student safety comes first.
One day I questioned a student about an incomplete class assignment. I imagine my disbelieving expression was boldly displayed on my face. As I turned to walk away after hearing his excuse, he mumbled something under his breath. I clearly heard his one word utterance, but opted toward beating a path to the high road. Believing he had my back, Barrister raised his hand with confidence and blared his query aloud, “Should people be calling you the b word?”
My response, “Brilliant, someone called me brilliant? I am flattered,” I blurted with pride and beaming smile. The offender noting that I had cut him a break, brushed his brow humbly. Barrister was bothered that I did not banish the offender from the room. I determined that being a role model toward the “sticks and stones don’t break my
big boned body bones” position was far better than really being branded, the b word.
Have a blessed day and remember beauty & the b word is in the eye of the beholder.
* names changed to protect innocent and not so blameless bystanders