The parable of the Dixie Cup

So this morning Tag was munching on animal crackers when he out of the blue asked,

"Mom, what happens when a glass cup drops on the ground?"

"It might break."

"Oh, well what happens when a paper cup drops on the ground?"

"It probably won't break."

But then I thought, but even if it doesn't break, it sure doesn't last very long, doesn't wash well, and will weaken and fall apart over a very short time. On the other hand, a glass cup can last for generations if it's very carefully handled, doesn't going through many moves, and is washed fairly carefully -- but one single traumatic event will break it forever.

Metal cups get dented and dinged, but they endure heat and cold, rouch handling and brillow pads. In the end, after a hard life, they can be refinished, polished, and continue doing their job without hardly batting an eyelash.

Last week I went to a dr's appt. My primary dr is one who also does a whole lot of cosmetic stuff (first time I've had one like this, but I've heard of it) and it was odd to sit in the waiting room in my nicer-but-still-a-t-shirt shirt, jeans, fleece jacket, with my hair back in one of those little claw clips. I wear minimal makeup and I've put on some weight since moving here, and my skin hasn't been behaving well over the past couple of months. I found myself comparing my motherly body with the young (and not nearly so young) ladies with their designer clothes, lazered legs and faces, chemical peels, manicured and pedicured digits, and tight little butts. I was kind of glad that my dr didn't have me get undressed for this particular visit.

Last night I was watching a friend's children and when she got home with her husband we chatted for a little while and somehow she got around to saying "but we're real women." And I thought about my extra weight and other insecurities (gosh, I'm freaking angsty).

And then this morning Tag asked about cups and which ones he should go for if he were in a destructive mood. I sure hope I'm a metal cup. Dinged, maybe tarnished, but by golly I get a job done. Maybe some day down the road I'll get a good polish but that won't change a thing. I'll still be what a always was, and continue doing my job without requiring royal treatment. But hey, if we're going to talk about a metal cup needing to be polished, I never turn down a massage.