OK, I admit: I love watching the Kardashians. They crack me up, and I only wish I had the guts to be as brazen as they are in front of the whole world and then to not care when I woke up the next morning. (Yes, I too was disappointed with Kim’s giant wedding and now giant divorce a-little-too-quickly afterward. We all make mistakes. I’m learning to forgive.)
Now it seems that my world and Khloe’s might have some sort of small parallel going … and if we were in a competition for who handles life changes better–me or Khloe–I’d say she’s definitely winning.
Khloe and I will both be moving to a place we didn’t choose because our husbands are told where to move for their jobs. Her husband is a (seemingly – I don’t actually know him) very sweet pro basketball player. Mine is a (definitely) sweet Marine.
I had hoped that Khloe and I would have an even bigger life parallel by both moving to New Orleans. If, like me, Khloe was dreaming of and happy with the idea of New Orleans, her bubble was burst. Mine was burst a few days later, and I didn’t take it so well.
Khloe is now heading to Dallas with hubby Lamar – and instead of being a big baby and throwing a very public fit about it, she admits she’s “sad” but she also says she’s “excited.” Good job, Khloe. You are a better woman than me.
When my hopes for New Orleans were dashed, and instead I was told that I will most likely be handed over (through my husband’s almost-final orders) to the great (interesting, remote, probably-not-so-fun-as-Dallas-or-New-Orleans) city of Albany, Georgia, I didn’t say I was sad or excited. Instead I threw the biggest fit possible. I cried. I screamed. I called my family and cried and screamed and said their positivity was not helping to make me happy about it. I acted like a giant spoiled baby. You know, the kind you would expect out of a very rich reality television star.
But I’m not a very rich television star. I’m a military wife who is moving with her husband because that’s what we do. I’m moving away from my friends here at this base, further away from my friends in my previous city, further away from my job. It is how this game works.
I didn’t handle this one well at all. Maybe next time …
Because next time I’ll hopefully remember that wherever I’m going, at least I’m going with my husband whom I adore. And for now I’ll remember that this time, in Albany, Georgia, we’ll be together. We’ll have each other and we’ll build a new life there, just as, I’m sure, Khloe will in Dallas.
Thanks for being a good role model on this one, Khloe. And bigger thanks for not whining on national tv. I’m so glad I didn’t have cameras to see my meltdown. Oh, and feel free to come visit in Albany.