daddy's girl: finale.

overall, although sometimes i feel sheltered and a bit suffocated by my father's teaching...it is clear that he does, indeed, know best. for the most part he can keep his weird control over things that, frankly, i don't give much of a crap about anyway.

i am super lucky to have a dad. and i am super super lucky to have MY dad. he is truly my hero and even if i look and act like him and inherit all of his weirdo qualities, i consider it an honor to be his daughter.

daddy's girl, part 10.

(for previous entries to this series, please refer to daddy's girl, parts 1-9)

10. dead things

for those of us who have pets, the death of one is devastating. i recall as a child certain pets "going away" because they "passed on" and are "no longer suffering/running in circles/eating their flesh" now...

although i also had close relatives die when i was younger, father never shielded the fact of death from me. he grieved publicly when necessary and allowed me to freely ask questions...he may not have been able to answer them fully, but he let me ask...

EXCEPT WHEN THERE WERE DEAD GUTS IN THE ROAD. or in the house. or anywhere in view. and thank god for this. my "ewwww, what is that?!" was responded with a screeching of the tires or a hand over the eyes...

my dad has these quick, panicky moves he uses only in the utmost important circumstances (i.e. the run/walk he did on water when i was four and fell in between the boat and the dock...the heimlich maneuver (or in his case grabbing of the ankles and shaking upside down) he performed on my cousin when she swallowed a quarter...the rush through the halls of the er when i stuck all those peas up my nose when my uncle had a heart attack...but i digress) when dead things are upon me my dad reacts in the way he had for the past emergencies. thank you, dear father.

each dog and cat we said goodbye to...dad covered it. never saw anything but the neatly packed grave top...he even took care of my hamster (who i actually set free because he ate the other hamster and had blood all over his face...ahh! cannibal hamster!...then he found his way into the car garage and into the recycle bin..three weeks later. i know! wtf?!)...

but my father is retired and started spending summers in ny. my bunny rabbit died a few summers ago and i had to move him on my own. I HAD TO MOVE MY DEAD BUNNY RABBIT AND BURY HIM MYSELF. i am still traumatized by this event and i was 25 when it occurred. the horrid incident involved lots of lawn-n-leaf bags, tongs and a sheet pan...and i barfed. and almost peed my pants. i buried all of these items with poor bunny. shutter.

earlier that year my old landlord hit my dog in front of me and that was pretty damn bad but evil landlord at least picked the poor thing up and took me to a vet who handled the rest so, even though those memories are not pleasant...it did not involve moving an actual carcass.

winner: father. dead things...omg omg omg omg omg omg omg omg omg omg omg omg omg OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG omg omg omg omg omg omg omg omg omg

daddy's girl, part 9.

(for previous entries of this series, please refer to daddy's girl, parts 1-8)

9. fresh starts
i am super lucky. my dad taught me a lot about integrity and hard work and pride. he is a true gentleman and many people respect and admire him. but wooooah, he did not shed any light on the whole fresh start, begin again concept. i mean, he constantly reminds me about that time i lied/got caught/pulled a genius move doing ____. drives me insane. i was pretty wild as a child, tween and teenager. ok. at times i was a nightmare, it is true. i perfected the art of manipulation and covering your ass. i personally do not think i was doing anything that different than most teenagers my age but i will admit i was the best (or rather worst) of the crew. i strove for perfection in each and every delinquent activity. i was pretty much always to blame. i think my skills then have made me a much more responsible adult, mainly because it is clear to me that i cashed in every.single. "get out of jail free" card there is on earth.

but i have also realized that you can change and make good decisions from bad ones. there is not much that is absolute and unsolvable. but good god my dad still thinks that party i threw in 1996 is worth mentioning at every.single.family.event as the primary reason for my wretchedness as a teen. (it was an epic party, btw. totally worth it in the long run)

so i accept the fact that i can never fully have a fresh start with my father, but then again, being a daddy's girl...there isn't reeeally much need for one. as i said before, covering my ass is a strong suit. but thank god i am able to start again in most facets of life, because there are TONS of things i have royally sucked at and effed up.

winner: father. just as long as he keeps his mouth shut in front of employers and potential life partners, it's all gravy.

daddy's girl, part 8.

(for previous entries in this series, please refer to daddy's girl, parts 1-7)

8. large purchases aka better to ask santa

my dad never told me that most male retail workers tend to view my appearance similar to the following when i am seeking a large ticket item purchase:

i was not aware that i often walked around looking so helpless and confused but, apparently, this is a fact of life. who knew?!
this explains why my television at home resembles the above picture (ok. i'm exaggerating a little) but it is way old and weighs about 50lbs.

this also explains why i do not have motor operated lawn equipment, a stereo, or speakers, or anything higher than the technical level of a basic lap top and a dvd player in my home or car...

going into retail stores for large purchases is the WORST EXPERIENCE EVER if you are female, at ANY age. i despise it the most. i would rather go to the dentist, the gynecologist AND the dmv on the same day. i would rather wear a bathing suit in public. i would rather eat olives. OLIVES! (and i really, really, really, really, really hate olives)

i am fairly certain that these employees are schooled in the fine art of intimidation, degradation and condescension. very few things scare me off but lord help me, i could go the rest of my life without ever setting foot in a bestbuy, an autozone (and i kinda love this store) or the not labeled but so obviously gender specific section of lowe's (i.e. everything past the lighting department) AGAIN.

if it needs to go inside of this, i'm outta here. my dad pretends like it irritates him but i know he prefers to handle this stuff...which i think is why he uses his i'm not putting up with your crap missy voice every time i tag along to one of the aforementioned locations. and i am 29 years old.

it kinda takes some of the glory out of home ownership. i mean, i still frequent the hardware store. i love a good hardware store. in fact, i hate the hello my name is ___ people so much i try my best to get everything at my teensy little local hardware store. that and i'm a small business supporter. and the store is within my comfort zone.

i actually do all sorts of research in the privacy of my own home before i decide on a big ticket item, to decrease the time required in the store deciding, thus rendering myself vulnerable to the vultures known as hello my name is ___. if i cannot buy it online or quickly, i kinda just go without. i am telling you. it is that bad.

winner: father. just go replace my battery for me. pleeeease. if i have to go in there and get laughed at i will flip. (and i know exactly what kinda of battery my car needs. and i can change my own flat tire. and i am a badass at most yard work. now i just don't want to because they ruined it)

daddy's girl, part 7.

(for previous entries to this series please refer to daddy's girl, parts 1-6)

7. why boys do what they do

i got dumped one time in college and it was the bad, not only my heart but my skin is ripping off and everything is pouring all over the place, kinda being dumped. throw on a thick layer of clinical depression and no self esteem and there you have me at the time. i needed to go home for a few days but i could barely get out of bed/off the floor long enough to get my clothes together and then my car wouldn't start. then the world ended (or so i thought). anyhoo...got on the phone and was able (by the grace of my dear friends) to get home for a few days. one of those phone calls was to my parents house and my dad answered the phone and sounded like someone had beheaded his puppy in front of him. he was so choked up he couldn't really talk to me and passed the phone on...

i figured out that my dad's heart, in turn, was also broken. he's not the big, intimidating, i've got a shotgun and i will abuse my ownership of it to threaten you boy type of man...in fact, he's equally as liberal as i am when it comes to gun rights...but he gets PISSED if you eff with me. when my dad gets pissed, he completely clams. zips his lips. turns red in face, whiter in the hair...and you are on his shitlist for life.

so i wonder why my father never gave me the why boys do what they do warning...first of all, i don't think he could actually handle discussing in depth the topic of me and a male being intimate...(which is kinda ok with me...or maybe he tried but my attention span was so short i left the conversation before he got to the point)...another theory i have is that my dad was one of those guys when he was younger...therefore, telling me the secrets would be exposing his true self as a young male, destroying my perfect image of him...nahhh.

a few times, while hiking/walking with my dad (that is how we bond)...we have talked about my past relationships. he tells me about the last time he saw/talked to/wanted to maim them and kindly points out a character flaw or anomaly in their dress or demeanor...and then he usually makes jokes as to what d-bags they were...he's always been nice to them but i really doubt i have ever brought home a boy he has genuinely liked. he really likes a lot of my guy friends because i am pretty sure he knows they won't ever see me naked.

so why hasn't dad given me fair warning on what to look for in men? eeeeasy...then numero uno status is in jeopardy. he could have given me tips on what to look for, but i am glad he hasn't. i've figured it out of my own...(which is probably why i prefer to be single. ) and the thought of talking about the tendencies of the opposite sex i am involved with amongst my fathers ears makes me a little uncomfortable...actually it terrifies me and is gross and i never want to touch that topic with a ten foot pole.

winner: father. if you have a dad that is worthy of numero uno status-always keep him there. or at least always make sure he thinks he is numero uno. (and throw in that "it's so difficult to find someone i like because my example of what to live up to is so amazing"...it's true and brings on waterworks EVERY time)

daddy's girl, part 6.

(for previous entries, please refer to daddy's girl, parts 1-5)

6. home owning/renting
now i may have mentioned i am NOT a fan of feeling out of control or weak. i despise it and fight like hell anytime someone makes me feel less than what i think they should think i am worth. but fathers do a grave disservice to daughters in the home owning/renting department when they do not take the time to teach the skills of renting/leasing/owning their own properties. many a security deposit could be spared over a few simple lessons on assertiveness by the fathers of the world. my father "took care of" these things throughout college, i.e. covered my ass and didn't tell me about it. again, thanks dad but geeez...i felt like a MEGAbitch after going through the whole mortgage process and pretty much had panic attacks for a month straight.

i don't give a crap if you are busy i am going to read every line of something before i sign and YES i will ask a million questions until i understand. completely. deal with it.

winner: draw. fathers perhaps accompanying your daughter on these trips would be helpful and a leedle muscle never hurt anybody. OR bring along your (experienced) female realtor. they will back up your bitch.

***this picture is my house when i bought it. in april. it is waaaay cuter now and i am a leedle embarrassed about this shot, btw. but it makes my point. ***

daddy's girl, part 5.

(for previous entries of this series, please refer to daddy's girl, parts 1-4)

5. super human arm strength, aka, forearm strength
(photo courtesy of righteous babe records)

as i have mentioned, most of my realizations of my father's protective tendencies have been when i am reduced, as a adult, down to the maturity level and mentality a seven year old girl: forced to tears by something trite and menial.

i usually attempt to conquer most things on my own, cause i'm that girl. (sometimes this can be considering bravery, but often times, it is just stupidity) but what the crap is going on with things that require super human arm strength?!!!

i HATE it when i am faced with something that is beyond my wimpy strength. i get all worked up. i start planning my weight increase at the gym and begin to curse. aloud. profusely. it is ridiculous. i have been working out for as long as it has been age appropriate and my arm strength (or lack thereof) is embarassin.' AND i actually do focus on arms at the gym but no real improvements have occurred in this area. i am ok with the fact that arm strength it just not my thing, but grrrr...i get mad when i have to ask for assistance....i would almost rather break the thing open (or in half) than ask for help. i have issues. this i know. how was i supposed to know that sports and other yucky stuff i was disinterested in as a frilly girl would benefit my upper and forearm strength?

examples of items requiring super human arm strength: weed whackers (thank god for electric) & lawn mowers (thank god for the pushy no motor ones), large jars, things that hold paint or glue or gooey stuff, most power tools, plumbing stuff, appliances, things that cut or clips large things, things that are screwed on tightly with tools, etc., etc.

so how do i blame this one on dear ole dad? cause. he just assumed the role of weed whacker, paint opener, plumber, whatev in the life i consider everyone else to revolve around: my life, that is. i know how to change my own damn tire but CANNOT because the dudes at the shop screw the bolts on too tight with their tools that only they can lift with their super human arm strength...boo. i love changing my own tires. i do NOT love waiting on the side of the dang road while people snicker, "psssh. look who can't change her own tire." I CAN SO! i am merely a victim of sexist power tools!!!


winner: deferred to your hot boyfriend. this is an example why they exist.

daddy's girl, part 4.

(for previous entries to this series, please refer to daddy's girl, parts 1-3)

4. insurance truths

i caught my father paying the balance for a surgery i had many years ago. at the time, i was told it would all be covered by my insurance and i stupidly believed him. it was after surgery for my heart that was kind pertinent to my future health and well being. but OMG i just about flipped my lid when i saw the balance. the bill was forwarded well after he had paid for most of it as i had been in a temporary apartment and didn't forward my mail from his house until i moved more permanently. as much as i appreciate my dad's help on this...HOLY CRAP!!! do they screw you when you are sick...or trying not to be sick. or aren't really sick at all but have for instance a birth defect or abnormality that can be easily remedied because you know and love your body and seek assistance when something does not feel right...arghh!

so, yeah. dad neglected to inform me that insurance (although absolutely necessary) is STILL freaking expensive. even when you are an able bodied, responsible adult. co-pays are just a mean trick to make you think that is all that you owe for this friendly office visit. i mean honestly, i avoid going to the doctor at all costs because i am terrified they will slap a "pre-existing condition" on my pulled muscle or funny feeling limb. cause they have tried to do this already. when i tried to fight it, i lost. why? because my dad was at the same doctors office and they mentioned an old balance that was rejected by my insurance. and he paid it. three years later.

now. if it was such an important fee and concern wouldn't this bill have gone to collections? haha! yes! but it did NOT because i honestly feel i would have been able to bitch my way out of that rejected coverage. and the office knew it. but they bypassed me and hit up my dad. grrr.

i was soooo unbelievably pissed when i found out about this incident in mention. not only did the receptionist COMPLETELY violate hippa but WTF? if there is NO documented diagnosis of a pre-existing condition i ain't paying for it jerks!!! and my dear, sweet father in his attempts to shelter my poor check book from unexpected costs, paid the damn thing and deprived me of yet another BATTLE WITH THE MAN. grumble.

was his heart in the right place? sure. but this CANNOT go on any longer. this is triangulation in its most wicked form and i will NOT stand for it.

winner: daughter. use this time to become a healthier, more aware individual, ladies. pay attention to WHO and WHAT you are paying and fight like hell when you feel screwed. health care reform NOW!!!

daddy's girl, part 3.

(to see previous entries of this series, please refer to daddy's girl, parts 1-2)

3. taxes
holeee gawddd! i am forced to tears -pretty much every year-by my taxes. and this is in the digital, online-form age where they basically do everything for you, you just need to put the numbers in where they say so...but then i started owing stuff. and working grown up jobs. hrumppf.

once i tried to ask my dad for help and he actually held his arm around the page and wasn't allowing me to see what he was writing. he said it was because he is left handed but then i got it: financial independence (for his household members) is something he cannot handle. this is why he will not explain.

i do not think he has a masochistic desire to see me cry and stress over my paperwork (which is why i do it alone. very, very alone. i am scary person when dealing with confusing paperwork. even the dogs hide)...but i do think it is difficult for my father to accept that i need to know how to do these things...in the event of _____. i find this odd as my father had to take on many primary caregiver (including financial) responsibilities at a very young age. you would think he would want me to be tax payer savvy, no? NO. i even had to pay back taxes from many, many years ago this past year that i did not file. i did not file because at the time my father told me (and i QUOTE) "you did not make enough for it to matter and you lived out of the state for most of the year, anyway." WRONG. i had to pay that measly $125 with interest. boo.

winner: daughter. ladies this is something you MUST know how to handle yourself! (and they let you print out directions that are about 15 pages long so you can blot your tears with the excess pages.)

daddy's girl, part 2.

(to see the previous entry of this series, please refer to daddy's girl, part 1.)


2. broken stuff

again, always seeking my fathers assistance when i broke stuff as a child was easy: "please put barbie's head back on that my sister ripped off" "please reattach this sparkly pink basket to my bike that was ejected from the handle bars when i ate in on the big hill three streets over" "please pay for the car i just wrecked into the other one on the way to school" ...you get the point.


as an adult these things are becoming more complicated...toilets and various plumping equipment, kitchen stuff, closet racks with too many clothes on them...i have learned these are all things i am more than capable of attending to myself as an adult.


i am pretty much the most impatient person EVER so asking for my father's assistance means i would have to wait for him to find time to assist me (which i totally do NOT get, because the man is retired..come on, it is like he could be MY personal maintenance man, right?!) and i have come to realize that my father, god bless him, is not skilled in all things maintenance related. in fact, joint "fixing broken stuff" projects have turned sour as of late and created some pretty heated arguments mostly centering around the fact he has engineer logic (or none at all) and poor communication skills. and i am a wretched brat.

i believe my father did not tell me i could do these things myself because then the whole "rescue me" thing would be exposed. and i realized all of my closet racks and shelves were on a slant when he was finished with them.

winner: daughter. don't tell him it's broke, fix it yourself. (or only ask him to fix stuff you don't really care about or use often)

daddy's girl...part 1.

i am one. almost to a worrisome level in some regards. i not only look like my father, I act like him and have some of the exact same habits as he does. it is a little disturbing and comforting. my father and i have the same nervous ticks: we both nibble at our knuckles identically. how gross is that?! pretty gross i would say. but anyhoo...

being a daddy's girl has many perks, but for now i must focus on the unfortunates. i feel this series of blogs may be a service to other daddy's girls who are struggling with the overprotective father as a grown up girl...as one is raised a daddy's girl a shield is placed around this girls existence. as is the fathers primary job, a thick layer of protection is put intact upon the girl at a very early age, some may say at birth...or earlier. this is great as a child and a young woman but then BAM! adulthood hits and all those things your father has been doing for you (or in some aspects hiding from you)/protecting you from/etc. hit like a brick wall.

it has taken me a while to decipher some of these mysteries...most at the literal and blatant opposition of my fathers wishes. some i still let him control (or at least make him think he controls) some i have had to fight for...

i have a top ten list of things daddy's keep secret from their girls but will be dividing these up as series to avoid the unending blog entry effect.

1. car stuff

this is by far the worst battle i have ever fought. not only do i get the once over every time i have an oil change or an inspection, but my father controls this aspect of my life still because it is so much easier than dealing with his shit if i do not. it is also certain i will never hear the end of it if something goes awry. my mother suffers from this also. neither of us have ever really been "completely happy" with a car purchase after going through the agonizing process of searching and seeking out cars when needed with my father in tow. we have both just settled on ANY thing after a few weeks...it IS that bad.

when my last auto was agreed upon we could not actually purchase the one we were sitting in and testing driving at the time because I suggested we check out the options at this particular car seller lot. my father had to drive THREE hours away to buy the exact same car but from another man that fitted his criteria. mainly: that HE found himself. (may i add this auto my father chose had a number of issues, i.e. filthy seats, unidentifiable things melted on the fabric in weird places, blown out speakers, a broken gas gauge, etc., etc. but WHATEVER. i was beginning to have homicidal thoughts and would not dream of bringing up any of these issues. car shopping with my dad is just that painful.) so my mother and i have historically agreed to the first thing that is marginally mutually agreed upon. last time, since i had been through this process several times before i thought i had learned my lesson and decided i would only insist on having a particular color automobile. i really did not give a crap what style, size, make, model, etc. i thought i was being reasonable and smart. FAIL. (all i wanted was a black car and i have a grey-blue one in my driveway.)

in addition...
after many years of insisting that the local mechanic, (whose child i went to school with, that was from the same ole southern town we all live in, that knows every.single.person here, that i work out with at the Y everyday) was indeed an honest, hardworking man, my father finally agrees he won't screw me over when i need some car maintenance. now he thinks he is a golden car god and believes everything the man says. i think he might actually have a man crush on him now....BUT mind you, i had to visit his garage in the closet for a few years because my father had to realize this man's potential on his own...alas, he now services his vehicle at the same locale and all is right in this department. (but it seriously took him over a decade)
AND this is after years of dad's "last minute engine checks" which btw, have left me on the side of the road at 7am on the way back to college...

so why? WHY? do you ask, do i continue to seek my father's assistance in the car stuff department? WWWHHYYY? because i heart the crap out of him and don't know shit about cars, that is why. and the man used to live in flint, michigan and worked for GE. it would be a sin not to include him. i am afraid he might seriously cry.

winner: father. keep him, but reluctantly and as sparingly as possible, only under exigent circumstances and at dealerships.