Mixlexia

I don't know if many of you know this but I'm dyslexic. Phew. Feels good to get that out. It's okay, it's okay. If you want you can send flowers or chocolates. Somehow we'll get through this. It's a rare form of dyslexia. It's kind of like I jumble the letters around instead of merely getting them backwards. Doctors haven't formerly diagnosed anyone with this disability yet, so I've taken the liberty of naming this condition myself. We'll call it mixlexia. Yes. That has a nice ring to it. Mixlexia.

If you, my friends, find yourself in any of the following scenarios you might be suffering from mixlexia:

1)

You're out on a date with a dozen of your soon to be husband's mission friends and you start telling the gripping tale of how you once contracted frost bite on a chilly night in Park City. You begin telling your story by saying, "One time I got fright bost while my husband and I were on a date in Park City." You have absolutely no idea that you've jumbled the letters of the most important noun in the story. And so you continue babbling on saying "Fright bost feels like this" and "Fright bost makes you do that" until a sea of cross-eyed faces are glaring at you wondering what handicapped school your fiance picked you up at before the date. Fright bost = Mixlexia.

2)

You're at a meeting during work and you're asked to give an update on a software development project that you're managing. In your mind you've said something like "The situation isn't looking quite as dismal as last week". Really what you say is "The situation isn't looking quite as dimsel as last week." Your boss casually circles your name on the dimwit employee list he's making.

Dimsel = Mixlexia.

3)

In the last scenario you may be out with your husband for a Sunday drive. You look at the gloomy city below you and decide to comment on the drab air conditions. Instead of intelligently articulating the scientific explanation for the existence of smog, you say something like "Man! Look at all of this smug! Sheesh!" Then your patient husband looks at you and wishes that he wouldn't have picked you up from the handicapped school way back when.

Smug = Mixlexia.

Good luck all of my fellow mixlexians. I would love to hear your similar stories if you so wish to confess your own diagnosis. If not, maybe we'll see you at our support group session this Thursday.

Cake tare.

I mean. Take care.

Love,

Ashley