Yeah well, get on the bus
Ok… I am back in the saddle again I think. That was a rather depressing post yesterday wasn’t it? Things were a little better on the mother front yesterday. She seems to have gotten a little more clarity somehow because she mentioned that I looked fat. Then her sister – with whom we usually only visit when one or the other is in the hospital lately – also said I was getting fat.
What the hell, kick me when I am down. Doesn’t anyone in the world have anything nice to say to me? I know I look fat. It’s because I am fat. Why am I getting fat? Because food is nice to me. Food doesn’t need me to help it, clean it, drive it, make it better. I don’t want to be a fat 43 year old. I don’t want to be a short chubby middle aged woman in ugly mom jeans. Do you think I didn’t notice how fat all this stress is making me? Do you think that I wear the same thing every day because I forgot I wore it yesterday? Really, I even look fatter on TV every week. Not only do I have to know I am fat, I have to see how fat I actually am on Channel 15. It’s a good thing no one watches the programming because soon I might start to hear from my trusty constituents that I am too fat to make decisions about how to spend their tax dollars.
Sophie lost it this morning. For the fourth time in about two weeks, she starts crying and ranting and raving about getting on the bus and going to school. The poor child is so stressed out and upset about every little thing I cannot keep up. I am trying to gently guide and cajole her toward calm, to no avail. Today she lost it as the bus was coming and decided that her whole life is horrible and bad because I am never home, my mother takes all my time, and I never spend any time with her. I am bad bad mommy and I am the cause of all the evil in the world. Conservatives might even think I am worse than the health care bill.
Oh yeah, well too bad. I am horrible fat mother and I suck at everything… but you still need to get on the bus and go to school.