That Half a Doughnut Girl

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I want you to think I am That Half a Doughnut Girl. I want you to believe that I would be that person that skates by the box of doughnuts in the workplace kitchen, pauses, and then says in a lilting voice, "Oh, how nice! Who brought doughnuts?" Because I want you to believe that I would pause for long enough to appreciate a doughnut doughnation to the workplace. And that I wouldn't just bust open that box faster than you can say Hot n' Fresh Krispie Kreme and maul that glazed pastry like a barracuda tearing through its prey. I would so like to impress you as someone that would think of others in the workplace and would only cut myself half a doughnut and LEAVE THE OTHER HALF right there. I wouldn't even have to THROW THE OTHER HALF AWAY so far down below the three months of maggot-infested yogurt and coffee-ground compost so she wouldn't end up eating it later. I would just have the willpower to do that and not mow my way through a whole row of soft pastry. My lands, why are doughnuts so delicious and evil? And further, why do I struggle still after these twirty two years to want people to think me something I am not. Because I am anything but a half-a doughnut girl. I'm more like a two and a half doughnut girl. And then I am the girl who wakes up the next morning with a wicked stomachache but runs a 5K anyway, while watching re-runs of the "Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" on the treadmill, laughing out loud at the gym, not really caring that I am That Girl Who Laughs Out Loud at the Gym because--Will Smith. Such a multi-dimensional comic actor. I am also the girl who forgets people's birthdays, who doesn't always make great pains to recycle, who can never get her eyeliner quite straight.

The girl who can't walk away from eating the whole doughnut might not be struggling, however. This is what I'm learning more and more. Sometimes the person who spells the word definitely with an 'A' isn't struggling with this. Not at all. Even though she spells it wrong like that every.single.time and drives us spelling superiors to throw bananagrams at her head. It's just not a struggle for her. At least not now it's not. Because what I'm discovering is that girlfriend might be wrestling with her Creator over much deeper issues, over matters that are buried much more inextricably in the heart. Sometimes we want to impose the priority of a struggle on someone else, to rank for a brother what he should be learning to make right first when he's busy about making a whole different sort of amends. We are all dancy-prancing around the fact that overweight bro should maybe really consider trying paleo because, you know, it worked for someone else who was struggling with carbs "just as bad."

Who do we buncha doughnut eaters think we are?

I own the whole doughnut girl inside of me. I know she can do better, eat better, build up her willpower muscles. I can't exorcise every demon at once, though. God's working with me and He has his hand over me, this I know for sure. Oftentimes, He's working to remind me that He's doing the same with others and their half-a-doughnut boys and girls inside, too.

He's not done with me yet, and for this I am so so thankful.

Photo on 9-3-13 at 11.45 AM #3