Sticks and Stones

I was called a ball of fire today.

That has always irked me to no end. Fircracker, spitfire, ball of fire – they are all the same. When I was a baby, my parents were worried that the large Collie dog we had would bully me or some way hurt me as I was crawling around the house. My father told the story of how one day he came home from work to find the dog up against the wall behind me as I was eating his food from the bowl. I was probably about eight months old, and from then on my father called me Fat Cat.

The New York Times defines Fat Cat as people who are able to "buy access, influence policy and even veto appointments." Really Dad? Thanks! He meant it as a term of endearment, since he said after that day he knew I could get whatever I wanted out of life. I think I was just hungry. Good thing I didn’t try to drink from the toilet. No telling where I would have ended up in life.

I heard people tell my parents that I sure was “a ball of fire”, or “one that will keep you on your toes”. I have been called similar things at work by people who meant it as a compliment. Once I was in a meeting where I had to draw a line about what money rightfully belonged to the museum. As I was leaving I heard someone say, “Lord, I feel for her husband”. I kept a smile on my face and told jokes while I was putting my foot down, so I don’t know if that remark was an insult or not. I think he just really felt sorry for my husband and having to deal with my spirited ass all the time.

It is odd how people perceive you. I feel like a shy person who has self doubt. That’s a far cry from a fire cracker.

A few years ago a person with whom I was battling over some museum property called me a cold hearted bitch. Oddly enough that rolled off my back. Another time a man was trying to intimidate me into backing down over a building dispute. Even though he was bigger than the Jolly Green Giant and uglier than sin, I still stood my ground. When he was spouting off at the mouth I put my hands on my hips and smiled sweetly as I said, “Bring it.” He changed his tune and left with a much better attitude.

I am sure people mean it in a good way, but it still troubles me. Does anyone else really give a shit? No.

People have a perception of you which can be very different than what you feel inside. While I still cannot stand the phrase “ball o fire”, I need to learn to take it as a compliment. We all should push that dog against the wall, channel our inner Miss Piggy, and light a fire.