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My Profile
Fairytales for a Practical Princess - 2008-11-30
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5:46 p.m. - 2004-06-10
This morning I woke to a grey day and an ever greyer mood. Despite my declaration the other day, getting off my ass and keeping my face out of the trough has been near to imposs. It’s been seriously bumming me out. With the disappointment in myself looming big, all sorts of other ugly gremlins were speaking up too. By 10:00 I was in tears. I was certain that ALL the weight would come back and there I’d be, waiting in the car again. Being ignored again. Never being touched with kindness and always being encouraged to shed my clothing in the dark again. And more than anything I knew I was in for another round of soul sucking humiliation while Mike sniffed around some scrawny bitch with the IQ of a housefly again. I know my husband’s loathing for fat and his predilection for the tiny twits are HIS problems. I’ve no doubt that before my corpse is even cold he’ll be on bended knee in front of some 89lb 4’ tall dimwit, but he’s going to have to wait until I go toe-up. In the meantime I will not give him any ‘excuses’ for his shitty behavior. I will NEVER be the fall guy again. He was happy enough to lay all the problems in our marriage at my fat feet. Just remembering his cruelty about my weight was enough to get me out of this chair. I went to work. Loaded the boom box with my favorite up-tempo R&B and cranked it. Rolled up the rugs and danced my floors clean. Alex came home while I was getting it on with Monsieur Mop. He gave me a grin. I was too winded to chat. I grinned back and kept right on dance-mopping. Switched over to funk to do the dusting. Thought about how fun it would be to have a hairdo like George Clinton’s. Seriously! I could stop carrying a purse and just tie what I wanted to bring with me to my head. Fell over in the yard (AWAY from the blackberry bramble, praise be) while I was sweeping the slate stairs. I sat there for a minute, rubbing my ear where the broom handle got me and had a rueful laugh. Lisa had said the nicest thing the other day. She watched me for a while and said, “You know if you didn’t keep talking about it I’d never know you had MS. You seem fine.” I wondered what she’d think of me going sprawling because I was sweeping a bit too vigorously. And getting whacked upside the head for my trouble. Yeah, I’m smooooooove. (*snort*) And didn’t I feel like a total creep during her visit! God, I am so ashamed of the way I went off on her behind her back. So unfair. Not even true what I said, really. I got to riffing and just sort of went with it. Totally clueless as to the bitch content until the next day’s re-read. Even Kathy Griffin isn’t as mean. I felt really dumb too because I couldn’t apologize without first explaining I’d slandered her on the Internet. Then I worried that I was just being chickenshit. Oy, I need a bigger life. What stuff I have now gets over-thought to the Nth degree. Somehow losing my wheels has really knocked the props out from under me. I don’t even know for sure if I’m a passenger forever. I know I won’t ever be able to drive the hotrod again. But my vision has been even worse than this and gotten better. No saying I can’t get back behind the wheel of the Bronco again some day. I get a little reliable depth of field back and I’m down the holiday highway, baby. Provided my foot is cooperating, my arms and hands aren’t clenchy and spastic, I’ve got control of my bowels and I’m not exhausted. But hey, a girl can dream, right? Now I’m going to make dinner for my kids. I’m going to fix them heaps of goodies I dislike and will not be tempted by in the least. On the stick (broomstick, that is), ~LA
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