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Because I can't bear to eulogize Doug - 2008-08-19
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9:53 p.m. - 2005-04-21
Strange things are afoot at the Circle K, I tell you what. Ignoring the last bit of the flu I went and did a bunch of errands. The weather was nice, none of that gruesome high 80’s stuff like yesterday. I left the house in my &%*# 14’s, Pro-Keds, a smartass t-shirt with the neck ripped out and a huge schlumphy denim jacket. I bought the jacket a few years ago for $5 at the Pretty Plus store’s annual parking lot tent sale. Frankly I think it’s kind of gross to be call ANY extravaganza at the Fat Chick’s store a ‘tent sale’, even if actual canvas structures are involved. Clothes buying is enough of an agony when you’re fat, having to tell your husband you’re going to the tent sale at the fat chick store is just fucking cruel. But maybe this is just me. So anyway I wasn’t not feeling all yippee-skippy about myself today. Health-wise I was still cruddy, I have a friction zit on my nose from where my new glasses rub, and I was wearing my fat pants. Nobody feels like a beauty queen in her fat pants. Nobody. Not even Cindy Crawford. First stop was the bank. Then the gas station where I pumped $51.75 into my tank! And the truck wasn’t empty to start with! You know, when gas prices went up over $1.50 in 1998 people were howling for Clinton’s head on a platter. I paid fricken $2.48 for crappy regular unleaded today and not a peep about lynching Shrub from a handy Mobil sign. What’s it going to take before people wake up to the reality that Bush and his pals are sucking this country dry? New housing starts took the biggest dump since WWII last quarter, inflation is skyrocketing. Thanks to Georgie’s fabulous tax ‘cut’ every single person I know ended up having to PAY this year. Some of them owed into quadruple digits. He just signed a bankruptcy bill that will utterly destroy the people who really need the most help- but the credit card companies are wetting their pants with joy. Wolf’s great-grandchildren will be still be trying to get out from under the current deficit, a deficit he racked up with his own fiscal malfeasance, btw, there was a SURPLUS when he took office. Shrub’s hell-bent for leather to ransack Social Security and hand his banking and investment buddies the biggest fricken birthday present ever. And what is John Q Public bunchy in the panties over? A cartoon character talking to a lesbian maple syrup farmer. Somebody shoot me…please? Chill, LA. Be chill. You won’t need someone to shoot you, you’re gonna throw an embolism if you don’t back away from the evil pulsing out of DC. Chill. Be very chill. (Small pause here while the author does some Lamaze breathing using a semi-nude photo of Johnny Depp as a focal point.) Ahhh…okay. Where was I? Oh yeah, running errands in my fat pants. After the gas station I went up to Sam’s Club to refill my puppy upper prescription. I caved. Finally admitted I need the happy pills. Since I am required by law to go to Sam’s Club every 72 hours I’ve gotten to know most of the employees by sight. They know me too apparently. The chick at the register says to me, “Mrs Sage, I have to tell you that you look fabulous! I’ve been wanting to say something for a while. You lost an amazing amount of weight and just look wonderful.” I thanked her nicely and felt a tiny bit less upset over the fat pants. Came back to Podunkville and went to the insurance agent’s. God help me, Mike bought another piece of crap vehicle. I haven’t even seen the stupid thing. A 14 year old Explorer with 4.6 million miles on it. How upset am I that I’m 42 years old and I’m still driving undergrad beater cars? Don’t ask. Someday I will have a brand new car. Yeah right. Just like someday I’m going to Europe. Someday I’ll write a book that doesn’t reek. Someday I’ll invent self-vacuuming floors and make a gajillion dollars. I tossed the Explorer’s title on Jae’s desk and said, “Got another piece of crap to add to my policy.” Jae groaned. She laughed though when I told her I was buying a Porsche with Mike’s life insurance pay-out next month. I guess I missed seeing Susan the broker the last few times I was in to amend my policy. While I was busy at Jae’s desk Susan came out from the back office. She stopped dead and cried, “LA? Holy shit! You look terrific! HOW much weight have you lost?” I did some quick math and stuttered out a number. She grinned and then pulled me from the chair to hug me. I’ve known Susan since my bookstore days, her office was next door and we used to shoot the shit when business was slow. She’s quite bubbly for an insurance agent, but I was a bit stunned by the hug. However this wasn’t as effusive as the reception I got at my next stop, the pizza place. Decided to have a slice at Sal’s. Bulgy or not, when you need a slice, you need a slice. I’ve known Sal even longer than I’ve known Susan. Sal’s is right around the corner from the apartment where we lived when we first moved to Podunkville. I used to walk Alex the toddler down that way and we’d always stop in to chat, even if we weren’t having lunch there that day. I watched his boys grow up and he watched mine. It’s nice to have history where you live. Needless to say, I wasn’t having too many pizza lunches last year so it had been a while since I’d seen Sal. He, too, went goofy. Came bustling out from behind the counter to exclaim and compliment. He grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed my forehead. You have to understand how weird this is. In all these years he’s come out from behind the counter only twice before. Once to hold newborn Wolf and the other to accept my condolence hug when his wife died a few years ago. That’s it. We have a strictly over-the-counter relationship. Again I made my thanks. Ate my slice. Talked about Alex away at college and Sal Jr’s latest kid. On the way home I got to thinking and realized something. I still mind the fat pants, but I’m not angry with myself over them anymore. I haven’t undone it all. I hadn’t fallen from grace as far as I believed. Believed and scorned myself for. Big time. I don’t know. I forgave myself, maybe? I didn’t feel like I had to make self-mocking jokes about my lax moral fiber and moral turpitude anymore. So angry. So ashamed. I had lost control. I’d been weak and self-indulgent. It’s the latter that really fried my cakes. How dare I? There is to be no slacking. Ever. Other people think I’m scary even when I’m not angry so you can imagine what a hardcase I am when I do get angry. And there’s nobody I’m harder on than me. Maybe it’s shallow or something to let outside validation have so much influence on how I feel about myself, but hearing all that today really helped. Put some perspective on the situation. 11 pounds out of 83. No matter how huge I felt, I was still 72 pounds to the good. And that ain’t chump change. I feel like I can do this again. Get busier. Eat smarter. Do it because when I’m in the groove it feels good. I’m happy when I eat healthier. All this sugar has turned my brain to sludge. I enjoy my sparkly house and my goofy beginner’s luck gardens. Until today I was dreading those things. Diet! Ugh! Doing all that piddly crap every day! This is my life? A hungry Hazel? A starving nit-picker? It all seemed so dreary and too much work. Because I had to do it. I was bullying myself to get back on the stick. Am I ever going to learn to let up on myself? Because really, this stuff is getting very old. Keep losing my grasp on the positive and I don’t want to be a crank all the time. I’m hoping the pills will help. But I’m not hoping too hard. I managed to get in some deep funks while I was on it this winter. Deep. I’ve only been off 6 weeks, but this cranky sour I’m-my-own-worst-enemy misery has been going on for months. Enough. So anyhow, I’m feeling better about things. Who wouldn’t be after getting kissed by the pizza guy? Heh. Tomato saucy, ~LA
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