Saturday, October 5, 2013

Memoirs of an Eclectic Shorebird:Demons are like Pigeons.

Demons are mostly like Pigeons. If you stop feeding them they go away. Sort of like my hips.
Now  I like Pigeons. When I found one injured I took it to the Raptor Society and coughed up a nice donation so it could be rehabilitated. 

But you want to be careful not to end up with an infestation and that how it is with demons also. Don't encourage them. Occasionally ignoring them doesn't work, and with pigeons a rap on the window does the trick.  This doesn't always work with demons. Sometimes demons need to be stared down and told very firmly, 'Go away."

If you really need to conquer a resistant demon, you'll want a woman about mid-way through Menopause.   At that point most women are as tough as Navy SEALS, and have a low to zero tolerance for foolishness. Besides, most of them already have experience. Head spinning, slime spewing, wall crawling evil creepies? HA! Three words for you, Bathing. Suit. Shopping.   Reclaiming the Possessed ? Candy from a baby; they've raised TEENAGERS. 

And for many training started young. I grew up fighting demons as many girls do.  Your father wanted a boy.” You’re a disappointment.” “You’re fat.”  “No one likes you.” “You never fit in.” “No one ever chooses you.”   I’d hear their words behind the flutter of leathery wings as they came and perched on my shoulders.  "Why don't you pull up your socks!"

One little guy liked to point out the obvious. “You’re clumsy, messy, loud.” Frankly, the repetition  was getting a little boring and one day I looked that demon right in his burning red eyes. “You’re right,” I said. “What's your point?”

 I reached down into my imagination, knitted up a fuzzy sweater and slipped it over its head. "Pink’s your color,” I told it.  “And I’m naming you Ugly Truth.” 

Behind me came the swish of wings, the swoop of something mean and beady eyed.  Quickly I reached into my bag of imaginary tricks, pulled out a badminton racket and took aim at Incoming from that old  demon  Self Hate. ”Screw-up!” it screeched.

“I’m blonde, left handed, and dyslexic,” I slammed back. “Nothing I do should surprise anyone. It’s part of my charm.”  Direct hit! 
Self-Hate soared away, “I’ll be baaaaaccckkkk!”

 "And I'll be ready." I examined the racket before dropping it back into my bag of imaginary tricks.  There was tiny lettering I hadn't noticed before. CONFIDENCE. SELF ACCEPTANCE. “Come on Ugly Truth let’s go play  tea party. And you could use a breath mint. Jeesh "

Where we'll be wishing everyone a Happy Pink Saturday!

And these great parties later in the week
Inspired Sunday @ Sunday View

What's It Wednesday@ Ivy's and Elephants

Share Your Cup Thursday @ Have a Daily Cup of Mrs. Olsen 

Cottage Style Party @ Lavender Garden Cottage
Lavender Garden