I have begun to wonder if I am an optimist.
Burkas. Our Canadian friend posted the image of women dressed in black cloth save the area immediately surrounding their eyes. My response was, “At least they won’t worry about melanoma.” He posted, “Leave it to you to find the silver lining. LOL”
Yes. And I have considered something else that may be a social silver lining: Perhaps Arab men prefer their women fair skinned. A garment covering virtually every inch of skin (and some do cover the eyes) would indicate social status. When I have seen women in Arab countries without burkas, they are often workers of lower status or children. Their skin is darker, more natural. Common-er.
Perhaps it is as was in old British times when a voluptuous woman was considered desirable—because she was well fed and pampered. As my husband pointed out, extra weight could indicate a fertile woman who would be healthy enough to live through pregnancy and also produce healthy offspring.
I have always felt I was a realist. Through the comments of others and my own self awareness, I think I’m more along the line of an optimist on the continuum of thought and emotion—except as it pertains to myself and self doubt.
I wake up the morning of a long day of appointments and errands to say, “We’re halfway there!” Then I explain the starting of a task or series of tasks is indeed halfway there.
The realist is a strong presence, yes. It allows me to see from many perspectives and follow perspectives and details to logical conclusions. It has served me well except in my naivete. Inexperience trumps realism every time.
Pessimism is reserved for my own view of myself. As I told my husband tonight, I see myself as more disabled than able. I mentally review and re-review my shortcomings, my mistakes—even mistakes I haven’t made…yet. I am afraid to disappoint or embarrass others. My anxiety peaks the moment I know I have to walk out the door or someone else is about to walk through it. It is beyond self critical.