Acting un-princess-y
Remember that if you are a princess in God's court, you are different, and your actions should match your privileged position.
-- Lisa Ryan, For Such A Time As This
Reminds me how I'm always vaguely ashamed to be caught in a rental bookshop, renting romance novels; how I'm always afraid someone I know will catch me browsing in the "romance" section of a bookstore; how I'm always slightly embarrassed to admit I read romance novels, let alone enjoy them.
You know why? Coz I'm a princess in God's court (ok, so it's cheesy imagery, bear with me here). Those books are unfit reading material for a princess, and I've always known it. I've known them to be beneath my dignity, that they were completely incompatible with who I am and who I should be — who I profess to be. So I was always ashamed because I knew I wasn't acting as a princess should.
Your actions should match your privileged position.
That explains the vague unease and guilt I feel when I'm in places like Novel House and other rental bookshops, standing in front of rows of Mills & Boons... I know that I do not belong there, that I have no business being there. "A princess is not supposed to be here," I could almost have heard God's still small voice saying to me. Except that I never thought of it that way and was trying very hard NOT to hear anything of the sort!
As a princess, there are places I'm not supposed to go and things I'm not supposed to do. "Your actions should reflect your privileged position." Called to a higher standard.
Which is not to say I've had great success in staying out of those places or staying away from romance books. *sigh* Even after giving away all the books I had, I have still gone back to them.
It's not an addiction any more. I sometimes buy the books, but when I get home I simply have no desire to open them. It's like when I see them in the bookstore they say, "Come on, baby, get me, you know you want me," and I buckle to the temptation; but when I get home I'm in my right mind and I'm reading through the ending and getting irritated by either the lame plot, inane conversation between the characters, stupidity of the characters themselves or all three. Quite often I sit there looking at the small pile of books on the floor by my bed and wonder why on earth I bought them in the first place!
So I find myself in a weird position: I want the books, but can't seem to read most of them. I'm free. I have to break the habit, but the lure is gone.
Praise God for that. You know, even those books with explicit sexual scenes, which I would have fed on before — I did actually give in and bought five of them a few months back. And what did I find? I couldn't even pay attention to the sex scenes! My eyes just skimmed through and took nothing in. I was totally disinterested.
Amazing.
Of course, a smart person would have immediately gotten rid of the books, but did I? Nope. I actually did make myself read them in the end, polluted my mind all over again, and... you know the rest... :(
But I DID eventually get rid of those and now I just have to break myself of the habit of reading romance in general. Or rather, the habit of wanting to read romance. Dear Lord, please help me...