Perhaps it was mom’s strawberry Glucerna spill in bed at 2:30 a.m.
Or the looming project deadlines.
Or that I’d stayed up too late watching tapings of the new season’s NCIS shows.
Whatever the reason, I was tired. And grumpy.
I was feeling extremely cynical.
And it showed up in an ugly attitude.
The target of my cynicism?
TV’s female news anchors.
I was tired of their standard, apparently prescribed, wardrobe and look:
Solid colored, tight, sleeveless dresses. Tan legs that cross perfectly. Trendy jewelry. Five-inch heels. Hair that is perfectly brushed and hanging in front of their shoulders because…I’m not sure why.
Who wrote the memo that said they all had to look like that?
I found it annoying.
I muttered about how they all looked the same. That their hair was too perfect. I wondered how they got down from their high-back chairs in their tight dresses. And I wished that I was in the business of selling them lip gloss; I’d be a gazillionaire.
(Reality check: What I’m really thinking…I wish my legs would tan and cross nicely without cellulite peeking out. I wish I could stay upright on 5-inch heels. I wish I wouldn’t develop an eye rash every time I wear mascara. I wish it made sense to hang those cute dresses in my closet.)
Ahhh. The things that bring out the ugly and get us on our high horses when we’re tired. Or hungry. Or hurt.
This time it was people on the other side of a TV screen that were the recipients of my sarcastic and glib murmurs. People who couldn’t hear me.
My tired, hungry, or hurt feelings have brought sarcasm and pettiness to the people standing in front of me. People who can actually hear what I’m muttering about. People I care about.
Oh, the things we get worked up over.
I mean, really. What is the big deal if all the news anchors look a certain way?
It does not matter.
We can probably each think of things we take way too seriously, even if it’s for just one evening when sleep eludes us. Certain events or observations get us on our soapbox, and we end up spending an extraordinary amount of time pontificating about a mountain when it’s really a mole hill.
The driver who cut in front of us on the off-ramp.
The sermon that went too long.
The restaurant server that didn’t move fast enough.
Unfortunately, our mutterings and murmurings do nothing to build someone else up. They are intended to make the other person look bad or wrong, or appear less-than.
In those moments that seem harmless, we’re swirling in our own discontent.
It makes us feel even more miserable.
We’ve wasted life.
When I am tired, hungry, frustrated, or lonely.
Would you please help me keep some of my observations to myself?
Remind me about what’s really important – and what gets in my way of living joy-filled moments.
Please keep me from taking myself too seriously.
From taking others too seriously.
Remind me to be kind. Gracious.
Help me to look for the good.