I believe in truth, justice, and the American way. I believe in the love of family, the comfort of friends, and the loyalty of labrador retrievers. I believe in freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and freedom to make my bed only when I feel like it. I believe in baseball, hot dogs, apple pie … and all that other stuff.
I believe there is no logical explanation for a 50-year-old woman waking up with a pimple on picture day. (It’s almost funny.)
I believe it is much more important to be a good and kind person than it is to be a smart one. (Of course, if you can be good, kind and smart, then that’s even better.)
I believe somewhere there is a karaoke machine playing “Bohemian Rhapsody” over and over and over, just waiting for me to get there and wow the crowd.
I believe there is a special place in Hell for men who abuse women and children. And, unfortunately, I believe it is a rather crowded place.
I believe it is a mother’s prerogative to occasionally offer unsolicited advice to her adult children (that “bringing you into the world” thing pretty much guarantees us carte blanche). I also believe that sometimes “Suck it up” is the best parenting advice I have to offer.
I believe in the importance of expressing my informed opinions in the voting booth (even if those opinions are frequently wrong, or so my husband believes).
I believe I am not the only person who trips over my own two feet and then turns around and looks as if there had to be some previously unseen obstacle in my path (you know you’ve done that!).
I believe the fact I can still touch my toes ought to count for something.
I believe every adult deserves respect until he has proven himself unworthy. I believe every child deserves the same.
I believe Brad Pitt secretly has a thing for me but doesn’t know how to break it to Angie now that they have all those kids. I also believe if he doesn’t “get off the pot,” George Clooney is going to take his place in my affections.
I believe some people are only happy when they are miserable (and these people are intent on recruiting everyone around them into their melancholy).
I believe God will keep putting 35 mph drivers in my path–every single day–until I learn patience (and possibly also learn not to mutter certain words under my breath).
I believe whoever decided to feed foot-long hot dogs to junior high boys has a very warped sense of humor.
I believe almost every recipe imaginable can be made even better by the addition of more bacon, more cinnamon, or more cheese.
I believe money really can buy happiness when it is used to fund experiences rather than to purchase things and when it is used to better the lives of others.
I believe men who run around all summer with their shirts off and their incredibly large (humongous) beer bellies hanging over the tops of their shorts really, really shouldn’t.
I believe I have a rather large quantity of weird ideas bouncing around in my little brain–but the more I expose myself to the masses, the more I realize that a lot of other people have the same weird ideas. So does that mean that all of us “weirdos” are re-defining “normal,” or have we been the normal ones all along?
I believe only through education and tolerance can we hope to save the world from itself.
I believe there is a skinny person living inside me, and she is being held hostage by evil demons who force feed her cookies and cheesecake every time she tries to escape.
I believe I have reached the time in my life when it is better to brag about my age than lie about it. I also believe that, in the words of Nicole Beale, “If things get better with age, then I’m approaching magnificent!”
I believe the more people I let into my heart, the bigger my heart becomes.
I believe nothing is more promising than an American flag fluttering in the breeze.
I believe that, after almost 20 years, it may be about time to change my hairstyle. Maybe.
I believe an all-meat pizza with onions and pineapple covers every food group and is therefore the perfect health food.
I believe not getting what I want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck (except when it’s something that I really, really want).
I believe going bra-less may in fact be a cheap, non-surgical method of pulling wrinkles out of the face. It is a theory that certainly warrants more research.
I believe anyone who is daft enough to ask, “Does this make my butt look big?” deserves to hear the truth.
And that’s enough about that.