Ouch...Right in the FUPA

I’ve gotten fat. It just took me 15 minutes to shave my FUPA.

As I was grooming I had this random thought, “I’m a gypsy, but I don’t want to be a gypsy.” That would be a really hard spot…a young gypsy coming to the realization that the gypsy lifestyle was not for them. It’s not like he or she can just put in a transfer request form to become a pirate hooker or a pediatrician. Once a gypsy, you’re kind of stuck always being a gypsy.

You learn the handshake and the hip shake and how to fleece tourists and wear large quantities of bracelets and jump trains and live on the outskirts of town. I don’t know if any of that’s true. You see, I’m not a gypsy. Their lifestyle is a mystery to me.

It’s not alluring. I’ve never thought about dropping everything to join the gypsy circuit. But, I think I could relate to them. They’re outsiders who came up with their own way to do life. They didn’t fit in as bankers or accountants. They blazed their own trail.

Let’s go camping, wear costumes and blow off work tomorrow turned into a lifestyle. Damn. Maybe it is alluring. But, practically no, it isn’t really. The grass is always greener on the other side of the railroad tracks. I like soap. And a roof. And indoor plumbing. If they had like a gypsy fantasy camp maybe, but I don’t think I’d last for more than a cup-o-la dayz (say that in Pedro from Napolean Dynamite’s accent).

So, then what if you’re an actual gypsy and you don’t want to be a gypsy anymore? You’re a preteen and realize your parents are fucking crazy. You want out. But, there is no way out. You’re stuck. What a helpless feeling.

You can’t just turn in your outfits and declare yourself to no longer be a gypsy. It’s your whole lifestyle. It’s who you are. You can’t separate the individual from the gypsy.

Just thinking about that stuck feeling brings back the memories. I don’t fit in this marriage. I don’t fit in this church. I don’t fit in this accountant costume. But, how the fuck do I get out of it? If you’re me you make friends with a stripper, say “eff this” to church and make a video about how close together the urinals are in the men’s room at your office. It’s amazing how quickly you become unstuck.

But, then what? I was lonely. And didn’t have all the identities I depended on to feel okay about myself. I was forced to either choose to cope with it in unhealthy ways or put in some hard work to improve myself. I guess I’ve chosen both (ask my FUPA). Some weeks it’s a little bit a therapy and a lot of John’s Space Age donuts. Other times Jack Daniels taps therapy on the shoulder and asks if he can cut in. But, as I battle to get better my therapist has been the constant, much more reliable than John or Jack.

I’m not like this perfect person who went from stuck and unhappy to everything’s perfect, but the thing I have going for me these days is that I can live with myself. I was like a miserable little gypsy kid stuck in this Christian lifestyle that didn’t suit me. So, I took off my monkey suit and tried to figure out what makes me happy.

And that’s being a dad and writing and talking about real shit and facing my past. These days I’m in control instead of being controlled. My voice wasn’t heard in my old life. Or maybe I just hadn’t found it yet. But, I was created to be me and I know now that my voice is worth exercising.

As my kids have grown up in the midst of the chaos of their mom and dad splitting, my daughter has been good at putting words to her feelings. But, that’s been harder for the boy. Today he expressed himself. He was embarrassed to bring something to school. He used his voice. It was so cool.

He felt something and told me about it. I was overly excited about it, not just because he’s finally learning to get his feelings out, but also because in my house growing up, feelings weren’t cool. That’s a pretty uncomfortable way to live. Just keep bottling shit up and pretending. Is something uncomfortable? Sweep it under the rug. No one will notice. Umm…EVERYONE notices.

When I was a kid, we tried so hard to make our family look like a Christmas card picture. But, doing that only on the surface and ignoring what really matters creates the opposite of home.

No, man…my kids are learning that they can let it out. They know that I go to my doctor every week to talk. Life is a lot. We need a vent for all the feelings life stirs up inside us. And life becomes manageable and works out better when our vents are open and allow us to let out what's inside of us in healthy ways.

Maybe you’re an unhappy gypsy. Unhappy, but stuck in that relationship. Or that job. Or that religion. Let out those feelings. Talk to someone about reality instead of accepting an unhappy lifestyle. Get in and figure out the roots of your unhappy. Maybe it’s you. That’d suck, huh? Not really, because then you get to try to fix what’s broken. Yeah it’s work, but man the feeling of being unstuck is priceless.

I could shave or bedazzle my FUPA in an attempt to make it look pretty. Or I could face and address the fact that it’s gotten really big. Maybe I could eat healthier or work out. Is there potential change that’s right there, but you’re caught trying to look pretty? Choose real. Pretty is over rated.