Sunday Thoughts - I Love To Laugh

My sister, Sarah, came to spend her Christmas vacation with us.  With a closet full of four different kinds of scented body wash I had recently purchased at a Bath and Body Works sale, I sent her to our guest suite ( I prefer the term over a family-room-with-a-bed-in-the-middle-of-it) with a towel and a bottle of Warm Vanilla Sugar for her shower.

The next morning, she told me I had given her lotion instead of soap, to which I firmly replied, "No.  It's just a creamy body wash."  Because I have older sister authority, she simply shrugged and said, "Oh."

Her accusation struck a nerve, however, because while I was using my own Midnight Pomegranate body wash the next morning, I re-read the directions on the back of the bottle.

"Massage into skin, especially dry spots and indulge in the luxury of..."  yada, yada, yada.

I read it again, looking for the verbs I thought should be there, like, "Lather.  Cleanse.   Rinse."

They weren't there.

Suddenly, my mystifying acne outbreak and overall less squeaky clean feeling the past two weeks had an explanation.

I was washing myself, including my face, with...lotion.

Sarah had a great laugh from my greasy mistake and after a day, I was finished feeling embarrassed and thought it was funny too.

It was perplexing to have lather-less soap.

I meant to blog about it but never found the time, which felt disappointing because I love having a good laugh at myself.

Actually, I just love to laugh.  I have three funny children who keep my laughter gauge pointing towards full.  I have a funny husband who frequently performs my favorite dance moves of his because he loves to hear me laugh.  And, blessedly, I have friends and family who supply me with the kinds of stories, shared memories and knowing glances that get me my necessary daily dose of guffaw.

Like I explained with the above story involving lotion disguised as soap (O.K.  They are perfectly labeled and just misused by someone who never bothered to look at the fine print), I am totally comfortable using myself as the butt of the joke.  It's safe.  I know I can't hurt my own feelings and it's like using a triple coupon if I can get others to join in the mirth.

Today in Relief Society, because it seemed to fit and, more likely, because I can't help myself, I made fun of my recent attempts to learn the art of knitting.  There were several women in the room who have been attending the weekly class alongside me who could appreciate my joke as they've seen me struggle week after week to grasp the motions of knit and purl.   I made the comment as I referenced a past message given by President Uchtdorf about our divine desire to create.  It was my way of acknowledging that, while I struggle with some of the more characteristically feminine talents (knitting, sewing, quilting, decorating, baking, canning, recognizing lotion as lotion right away), I also recognize my own spark of divinity when I write, or sing or enjoy the three boys I helped develop in utero and continue to help develop in the high altitude Colorado air.

My comment produced the chuckle I was hoping it would, but, later during the meeting, another sister followed with a comment about how we shouldn't tear ourselves down and while, perhaps I wasn't a natural knitter, what was more important than actually knitting was that I was persevering in trying to learn to knit.  That that act was the quality that mattered to God and to my own spirit, instead of the actual skill or craft.

I appreciated her rah-rah Lucy speech, but felt a little bad that she might think that I felt a little bad about not being a good knitter.  O.K...I admit that it would be awesome to have the long, flowy orange mohair scarf produced by my own hands I originally intended to make instead of the not-even-halfway-finished brown potholder that my teacher suggested I try instead, because I had an untapped natural knitting talent that this class had unleashed.  But, that didn't happen.  The next best thing, for me, is to find the humor in my extremely unsightly but hopefully useful potholder.

This woman made me wonder, however.  When are we tearing ourselves and others down, and when are we finding joy in the journey?  Are my poking-fun-of-myself comments harmful to my soul?  I felt self-conscious afterwards wondering if she might think I was fishing for compliments, like the, "I'm so fat" declaration made by the perfectly proportioned girl.    Was I?

I don't think so.   I will admit that there is some wisdom in the saying to "laugh at yourself first, before anyone else can", but I also believe, unless I am completely deluding myself, that to be comfortable laughing at myself also means that I am comfortable with who I am.  I have confidence.  I like myself.  Those aren't bad things, right?

I ask because, while I love to laugh, maybe what I'm laughing at isn't very funny to anyone else.  Maybe I'm like that clueless uncle or guest that thinks he's funny/interesting/entertaining and all anyone else really wants is for him to stop talking.   Although, even wondering aloud makes me worry about appearing to fish for compliments again.

I can't imagine I'll stop laughing at myself.  The pool of available subjects to safely poke fun of is just too sparsely populated.   But, maybe if it makes people uncomfortable, I might stop airing my goofs and bloopers.

You'll just have to wonder how my skin magically cleared up.

Now...for the uplifting part.  Watch this!