My kid started school a couple of weeks ago. Same Montessori school where I taught before I had Luca. You know, around the same time I used to shower and leave my house. Adventurous stuff like that.

The super skinny nice room parent sent me a super nice email welcoming me to the class and asking me if I had any questions.

I was about to reply back to her, something like, “Thanks so much! I used to work there. In the room next door.”

And then I stopped myself. Why not just tell her thanks so much!, and leave it at that?

Then I was all, “Why are you such a passive aggressive little bitch, Allison?

And then I was like,”Why are you attacking me again, me?”

AAAAAnyways.

I began to tell my husband this story last week over our anniversary dinner. Mid-way through,  he was all, “It’s because you’re a one-upper, babe.”

I saw him try and back peddle a little and then I saw him remember that it was my lady time of the month.

Confident that there would be no tapping of anyone’s ass,  he took a bite of steak and said it again. “You’re a one upper, babe.”

And of course I was all, “Hold the goddamn phone just a goddamn minute there, mister!” And just as I was about to argue with him it hit me…

Holy Fuck.

I am a one-upper!

Husband: Yeah, don’t you remember when we first starting dating? I would crack my back and you would try and crack yours louder right away? REMEMBER?!

Me: That’s what you are basing this name calling opinion on? I already told you that I would only crack my back because I saw you do it and it reminded me that I wanted to do it. GAH! Why are you being so mean to me?! It’s our anniversary. Do I look fat? It’s our anniversary. Whatever. I’m not even hungry. I wanna go home.

But, alas, this isn’t the first time I have thought this about myself. I’ve just never asked myself why.

Please let me explain, before you get all, “Why are you such an uppity whore?” on me.

It’s not like this:

Lesser person: I shit silver.

Me: I shit gold.

It’s more like this:

Other person: I shit silver.

Me: Oh. my.  Gawwwwd! I shit silver, toooooo! Weird! * high five *

I think, or at least hope, that we all have a tendency to do this at times. Cut people off because we are so anxious to talk about ourselves.

Not in a narcissistic way, necessarily.  More in the hopes of gaining someone’s approval and/or  friendship, by showing them our common ground. That we can identify with them. Empathize.

I get pretty nervous when I meet someone. I talk a huge game, and I have all these glorious, witty things I am going to say!

But, when the moment comes?

I. Got. Nothing.

My mouth gets dry. I talk A LOT of miles per hour about nothing. And I laugh loud and weird. My hair, that was perfectly blown out five minutes before, even starts looking like shit.  Sometimes I look fatter, too. And why in the hell did I pick this outfit? I can’t pull this look off!

It’s all of these insecurities quirks that lead to my occasional one-uppedness and tendency to talk too much.

* Sigh *

Don’t get me wrong, I think I am a great listener. You can come cry on my couch anytime. I love my friends and I am always there for them.

But, I need to listen more often in everyday situations.

I need to start hearing someone when we meet and they tell me their name. Instead of thinking of myself and what I am going to say next.

Because it’s true.

You wouldn’t worry so much about what others thought of you, if you knew how seldom they did.

Crap.  I think I totally just quoted Dr. Phil.