We are introduced to the hats at a young age. There is the best manners one, the endearing child, and the disciplined student. We learn to wear the hats to please others. Some times we wear them to get what we want or to just fit in. Later in life we try on the temptress, the rebel, and the athlete. We decide which hats we are willing to put on and which won't fit no matter how hard tug at them. As we mature we acquire the intellectual, the successful, the good Christian, the super mom, the understanding wife and the martyr. We go on like this through life until our rack is piled high and some hats forgotten, lay on the floor. Finally we reach an age where we take each hat and turn it over in our hands. They are too small and too obvious and too silly. No longer will we pretend to be. No longer will we conform. We will just be ourselves. Naked.
So here I am naked. Elbows on the table, irreverent and procrastinating. Lackluster, yielding and tired. Forgetful, complacent, spiritual ten times over but that old Christian hat can not contain me. Just Mom, understanding my own shortcomings. Hey what do you know, this Martyr hat still fits!