Tuesday, July 17th, 2007...9:27 pm
NUMBER TWO!
I have avoided posting lately, because seriously, work has been sucking. Every sentence I have started to type has made me sound like I have Tourette’s Syndrome. There are only so many permutations of “asshole,” “Boss,” “fucknugget,” “piles of paper,” and “shitstick” that you can type before you just start sounding redundant and getting comments like, “so just quit, already.”
I’m thinking about it.
But what I’m also thinking is, just because my job sucks, doesn’t mean I have to get all fucking depressed about it. I have been. I have not been taking good care of myself lately. And unfortunately, getting OFF the bandwagon of diet and exercise is a lot easier than getting ON. I keep thinking “I really should quit eating Hershey bars” and “I really need to actually go to the gym” but then another day passes and work sucks my life away and I just want to come home and eat a Hershey bar and play some World of Warcraft or Jewel Quest II or read a book and escape a little.
There is no escaping, however, the fact that the shorts which fit fine last summer do not button. That, my friends, is a slap in the face to my pleasant cruise on the River Denial.
And my feelings of “I feel yucky, oh so yucky, it’s just ducky how yucky I feeeeeeel” were just exacerbated when I had to go to Wal-Mart after a particularly shit-tacular day at work to pick up a prescription. Some little brat was wandering around by the pharmacy pick-up window. And she gives me this “you’re really big! Are you having a baby?” Of course, I say “no” while dying inside. She keeps at it, too. “Then you’re just really FAT!” I immediately vacillate between (a) crying and (b) saying something like “and you’re really a little fucking bitch!” I look around for the kid’s mom, wondering why the fuck she’s letting this Spawn of Satan run around by herself. I see the mom. The mom is hardly thin. And I’m thinking, what are you telling your child? That it’s ok to be rude?
Then I start wondering to myself, why do I automatically interpret some kid’s remark as an insult? I mean, I am fat. It’s not like it’s some big secret. Maybe she was just being observant. But when I was talking to Lando about it, I say things like “she was old enough to know better.”
That’s sad. That we know by the time we’re 6 or 7 years old that one of the biggest things we can say to insult someone is a comment on their weight?
I debated about whether to talk about this at all…because part of me just says “either do or do not, but if you’re not going to, then just quit thinking about it, go buy some fatter pants, and shut the hell up.” The other part says that maybe if I write about it and talk about it, maybe then I will do it so that I will have things to write about other than “ate giant bag of M&M’s and wallowed in sea of self-loathing.”
Now, on to other subjects!
First, my better half wrote about having his little Holden neutered and declawed. Well, actually, I think it was like a sentence. But really, there’s more to the story.
First, Lando informs me that I have to take the cat to the vet, because even though he knows it’s necessary, he can’t make himself have anything to do with the cat having his nuts removed.
So I make Holden an appointment.
Then we have to fit him in the cat carrier. This is no easy task. Holden is round. Holden is SOLID. There is no give to the belly. Whichever way he is put into the carrier, that is how he stays. I mean, my cats are far from svelte, but they are more smooshy, or something. Emily and Sissy can turn around. Barely. But Emily does it super-fast, to the point where I have to turn the carrier on end, shove her in head first, and then hope I can get the door shut and latched before her little head is in the way.
Of course, the vet gives a lecture about Holden’s weight. She’s all “What are you feeding him?” like he is dining on lobster and bacon-wrapped filet mignon rather than your basic Indoor Cat Food. To be fair, he really doesn’t seem to eat that much, and he’s not so into the people food. Unlike mine, who have radar about cheese, ice cream, lunch meat, and pretty much anything else that I might choose to eat that isn’t a vegetable.
So they tell me they have to keep him overnight, to “observe,” and that they will call Lando when the surgery is done to let him know the cat’s ok. They finally call…to let him know they had emergencies and didn’t get to his kitty. So poor Holden has to stay ANOTHER day at the vet. They tell Lando he can pick up the cat on Sunday.
Lando buys the kitty some welcome-home presents (a new litterbox called the “Booda Dome” and a window seat), the special cat litter, and we go to get the cat on Sunday before Lando has to work. The vet is all “did they TELL you to come get him?” And we say, “yeah, yesterday they said he could be picked up today.”
Well, he wasn’t ready yet.
By the time he was, Lando was on the way to work, so I go retrieve Holden, take him by Lando’s work so that Lando can say hi to the kitty, then go hang at Lando’s and watch Holden nap using his food dish as a pillow.
But I do understand…I wouldn’t have wanted my cat to be alone all day when it came home from surgery, either.
Finally, it was once again laundry time. BFRB and I still have our laundry routines. One of these is eating dinner/lunch/whatever while our clothes are washing. We generally go to Wendy’s, because it’s close, and because our trips to other places have been fraught with inbreeding, incorrect orders, and crack whores. Anyway, the people near us in line were having a hard time…because they barely spoke English. They ordered a #2. When the cashier asked if they wanted it “for here or to go”, they just kept saying “NUMBER TWO!”
As you all have probably noticed, I’ve moved, thanks to the lovely and talented Incredipete. His reasonable (okay, dirt ass cheap) rates for your very own domain, plus his ability to magically make all my old Diaryland archives transfer, made me happy. So update your bookmarks and stuff, all three of you who are still reading.
14 Comments
July 17th, 2007 at 10:41 pm
Hell, I set up the damn blog, and I barely even check it anymore, it’s been so long!
Glad to see you back. It’s very therapeutic to write about the little bastards in our lives.
July 17th, 2007 at 10:47 pm
Hey you,
I totally understand about should I a) be at the gym? or b) be playing WoW with a bowl of ice cream in front of me…
It’s a lot easier and less frustrating and self-loathe-inspiring to stay home and veg rather than go to the gym. I too struggle with my chubbiness versus the gym.
Truth be told, every woman in this world struggles with that dilemma, although only the perfect woman has WoW equated into it.
Don’t get too down on yourself because of a rude and crude 7 year old. Social skills are not a strong suit of that little shit, who sounds like you could have given her a stern “Child, you don’t talk like that to someone because it hurts feelings! Would you like someone to point out your low IQ and buck teeth?” That’s her parents’ fault, and has nothing to do with you.
I have to insert myself into the squinty and judgmental view of children all the time, and thank GOD most of the ones I see can’t talk, because I’m sure I’d get a buttload of inappropriate comments. Try working with high schoolers with Asperger’s Syndrome if you want to get put down.
Your job does sound stressful, and if this is leading to situational depression and eating disorder land, then GTFO. Paralegals are in high demand. Go have some real fun and work for an attorney specializing in special education.
Call me if you want to talk.
July 17th, 2007 at 11:35 pm
It’s about damn time you updated, woman. At least you don’t have a husband to continually remind you of your fatness. Like I’m suddenly going to forget, or something.
July 18th, 2007 at 2:21 am
YAY! Welcome to Wordpress and just welcome in general. I’ve missed you!!! Boo on the brat and fat thing. I too have had people ask when the baby is due. Ummm, 2010 I think. Like shut the fuck up moron. When are they bringing an IV for you….you’re looking a little like skeletal remains after an autopsy, sistah!
July 18th, 2007 at 2:29 am
I’m positive the little knuckle dragger didn’t know she was hurting your feelilngs, but her mom should have been paying more attention. I know I would have taken a Mom-shot to the back of my head if I had said anything like that to someone and then swiftly would have gotten an explanation of “what for”. You know? I think you’re beautiful and I miss you when you’re not around.
July 18th, 2007 at 7:58 am
holay crap, an update. guess we’ll have to reset that post meter to zero and start counting again.
glad to see you wrote again, even if about things that happened months ago. guess you’ll have to write more to get things up to date.
July 18th, 2007 at 11:29 am
Welcome back, Girl! You’ve been missed. I’ve been contemplating not going to the gym, since that’s generally where I see the Libertarian and I haven’t wanted to see him, but I can’t let a schmuck keep me from my routine, even if I hate the routine.
As to the little brat? I had an 8 or 9 year old say to me once (years ago), really loudly, of course, “Is that wart on your chin? It’s really ugly.” I even knew the bratface child as she was the devil spawn of my two managers at Burger King, so I had to be nice to her, even though after I explained it was a mole, she kept yelling about how ugly it was. Yeah, like I need any help lowering my self-esteem.
It’s really too bad we can slap the shit out of children who deserve it, even if they’re not ours.
July 18th, 2007 at 4:28 pm
My cat eats vegetables, too
July 19th, 2007 at 2:02 pm
Hey ya! I’ve put you and Lando on my bloglines, so you’d better update, or I’ll get ya…
Or not…
July 20th, 2007 at 8:45 am
Well slap my thigh and call me Frank, you are still alive. Not that i’m one to talk!!! I was looking at your D-land t’other day, wondering why you hadnt updated in over a year, then I find a comment from you, and all is well once again.
I hate kids that comment on your weight. I pretty much hate kids in general, but these ones are particularly vile. I once went out with a guy who had a couple of kids and one of them went back to his Mum and said “Daddys new girlfriend has 3 cats and a fat tummy”. I felt like saying “Yes which your Daddy loves bouncing about on top of!!!” but we have to remeber we are the adults. Didnt stop me spitting in his glass of lemonade though (I joke).
Great to hear from you again. How come you have moved from D-land? is there anybody there anymore?
July 20th, 2007 at 7:21 pm
Glad to see you writing! And congrats on the move to your own domain. It’s something I’ve considered off an on, but just never got around to doing.
July 21st, 2007 at 8:11 pm
This might sound like a strange comparison, but I can relate to the “fat” comments because of all the “boobjob” comments I have to endure. I try to tell myself “OK, I *chose* to look this way”, but ultimately, in your situation I would have said to the brat: “I might be fat now but I can lose weight. You, however, will still be an obnoxious little brat destined for a life of welfare, misery, inbred brats of your own, and a body that won’t look as good as mine does right now!”
July 31st, 2007 at 3:26 am
if a kid ever says this again, tell them what i would tell them. “i got this big killing and eating annoying little children like yourself. now where’s your mom?”
August 7th, 2007 at 9:01 am
Man, do you have a notifylist or something?? Or, could you like, just email me evry time you update? Because that would be great. I’m joking, but do you have a notifylist?
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