Diary of a mad deprived woman…


Deprived of sugar and social interaction, I should not be left in rooms full of people I know. Strange things begin to happen.

Let me preface this by saying that I have been deprived of these good things by my own choice.  I am not being held hostage, tied under the bed by a madman. I am doing this to myself.  I am the madman.

Sugar and I have had a long and sordid relationship. I consume so much sugar everyday that were I a child, one might need to medicate me.  Given that I am a way-old adult, I can consume as much sugar as I want and no one says a word.  When it isn’t real sugar, its my sugar-daddy Splenda.  My illicit lover that offers me such joy, I don’t even have the words. My friends stash Splenda in their homes awaiting my arrival.  It’s that bad.

I have been trying to lose weight these past few months and the program I am on does not allow sugar to cross my lips…in any form… I never gave up Splenda (yes, I know, please don’t lecture) but I did well with the real stuff for many many weeks, but then a bit of sugar would sneak in, here and there, until this past week when my resolve was down and I did some serious violence to at least one box of girl scout cookies.

Social deprivation is a trickier topic.  Truth be told, and its no secret, I have much more time on my hands than I ever did before. I am teaching a bit, but I have been home a lot.  I have many things to do and have been working on various projects, but I rarely leave the house.  The only person I speak to during the day is my Charlie and she doesn’t talk back.  I have had a few coffees or lunches but I am home working…alone… I haven’t felt like being out and about and I am not suffering in any way, I just don’t really leave the house much and limit myself to only a few social obligations.

Friday… I was a rebel and chose not to go to my work-out class, for no particular reason other than “I’m a grown-up and can do what I want.”  I stopped  at the dry-cleaner and should have noticed I had a problem when instead of dropping the shirts and running, I decided to tell my dry cleaner all the details of Sophie’s upcoming Bat Mitzvah and discuss, at length, the various menu choices, song preferences and what it all costs.  They seemed interested, but likely made a note in my file to charge me more on my next bill.

Then, I stopped for coffee at Brewed and sat for a minute.  In walks a woman I know who is meeting another woman I know. They both stop by my table for a friendly hello as the one woman tells her friend that she can’t stay for their coffee date because of a call from the school nurse.  The other woman is free to go. What do I do? I  invite her to sit for a while and I proceed to talk her ear off for an hour or so.  It was really lovely, but possibly odd that I had a coffee with someone else’s date.

And finally, the icing on the cake came Friday night.  Hun and Max went to a family dance at school. Sophie and I met them there about an hour later when she was done with her gymnastics meet at Rutgers.  By the time we arrived, Max and Seth were done and Soph was all too eager to go home as the prospect of hanging out with elementary school kids did not exactly thrill her. Walking into the gym I saw just about every person I know and the idea of a party – even one for fourth graders- sent a shiver up my spine.

“Max is done and I’m ready to go too.”

“Really, don’t you want to stay a little longer so I can talk to people?”

“No, I already spoke to the six people I know…”

“Hmmm, would it be weird if I stayed after you left?”

” I’m not sure, I guess not…”

He packs them up and leaves me there and I am free to roam the room.  Nothing is better than a school event without your school-children!

Ninety minutes later I receive this text… That Hun – he sure is funny!

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