The Queen of England

Today I got a massage and facial. As I relaxed; steam opening my pores, Audra’s fairy fingers making gentle circles around my eyes; I began to count my blessings. When I left the house this morning our housekeeper was pulling into the driveway. Last night I ordered a great pair of shoes from the Travel Smith catalogue. Tomorrow I have an acupuncture appointment. Next week I have a manicure and pedicure scheduled. I am the luckiest woman alive!

 

Then it hit. My gratitude turned to shame, “Who do I think I am? Really? Who? The Queen of England? I don’t dare tell anyone about all this.” I felt terrible, indulgent, spoiled, after all, there are children starving in Africa.

 

I remember many years ago buying a used SUV(this was before some really smart marketing person changed the word “used” to “preowned”). It was a dealer demo with low mileage. An Oldsmobile Bravada, champagne colored, leather seats and a sun roof. The monthly payments were less than my GMC Jimmy that I traded it for. It was a great deal.

 

The problem was it looked like a really expensive car and I felt ashamed driving it. To alleviate my embarrassment I would tell people (even if they didn’t ask) how low the payments were and that it was used. I felt bravado in my Bravada.

 

I never let myself enjoy that car. I ended up trading it in for another Jimmy. If I remember correctly, the monthly payments for the new Jimmy were more than the Bravada’s.

 

So as I lay on that facial table I decided to challenge my internal “mean girl” who shames me for having lovely things or taking self care of myself. I began to do some  deep breathing to ease my tensing body. I was, after all, paying to RELAX.

 

I asked myself some important questions?

 

Can I afford this? (Since the answer was “Yes” I continued to the next question.)

 

Am I enjoying myself? (Novel idea.)

 

Is this good for me? (Another novel idea.)

 

Can I be a queen? (with a small q not big Q.) (No, I don’t think I am the Queen of England-duh, I don’t even live there, but I can be a small q queen…if I want. Not forgetting the many responsibilities a queen has for her queendom. It is not all party dresses and glass slippers.)

 

Would I support a loved one to behave or buy in a similar manner? (A good test question.)

 

When I am on my deathbed will I be glad I did this? (Morbid maybe but another good test question.)

 

 

Lying there, Audra applying all natural, organic, we can “eat it if the rapture comes” skin care products, wrapped in a terry cloth towel from my massage, covered with a warm, thick blanket, music playing softly in the background, I answered an easy “YES” to all 6 questions. Maybe I am a queen. A grateful and diligent queen

 

I felt myself relax into myself as I took several deep breaths. Once again feeling how very blessed I am. A much better way to feel.

 

So…the moral of my story? I can feel blessed or ashamed.

 

My choice.

 

Yours too.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *