"Permissions" by Jill H. Garrett

"It's so much fun to recall my past especially when I was in the First Grade. My twin brother and I were in the same class and our teacher multi-tasked as the principal. Miss Bernice Kiker passed away several decades ago, but one of her basic discussions involved receiving proper permission to do anything.

You know the classroom drill. We were supposed to raise our hand when we had a comment or an answer and then wait to be called-on.
Permission! Miss Kiker would give permission for a host of requests, including urgently needing to use the restroom. AHA! I captured your attention with that memory didn’t I.

Often, I'd go through this permission procedure, even when I as at home, which created a grin on all the family faces. Why I sometimes raised my hand at the grocery store (more commonly re-named the supermarket) or during a movie viewed in subdued lighting. That one really left me feeling foolish! Oh, there were other situations like raising my hand at a slumber party and at a malt shop (now it's the Marble Slab, Sonic, or the oldie-but-goody Dairy Queen). I even blew-it at my own birthday party. Sounds ridiculous, doesn't it.

As I have grown older, the thought of getting permission seemed to couple with giving permission. That's novel! But it is probably less-utilized, when it involves me giving myself permission. It may not cause me to raise a hand or verbally request, but it appears to be the most difficult to do!

For instance, have you ever been so sleepy that you just wanted to leave the dirty supper dishes until morning? How about craving a double-scoop of Butterscotch Brittle Ice Cream, but then remembering the digits on the bathroom scale the last time you stood on it? Or did you ever just fall-in-love with an incredible pair of high heeled, leather boots, marked down to $130? You were on your way to purchase a week’s groceries; so, guess what purchase won!

Then, there's always considering using 'Mother's Day Out' or going to a "girly-flick", all by yourself, where you know you'll cry. Oh and don't forget the invitation to a candle party, where slightly-smoky scents activate deep-seeded emotions. These are all candidates for "giving you permission".

Well, every once-in-awhile, I do play the "permission game" and actually give myself the go-ahead. It's perfectly wonderful and so exciting. But the downside is "Mr. Guilt" generally rears his petty head and gives me a healthy dose. Not kind! When this interference occurs, often I have some sound advice and retaliate, "Go butt a stump, guilt!" Just enjoy what you've given yourself permission to do. Oh, don't make a habit of relinquishing to personal desires, and always remind yourself, of the comical saying, "Try it. You'll like it!"
Post Script: I give you one "permission game" credit, just because you read this piece!"

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