Queen of Rambles

It’s that time again–time for the Carrie is an Angsty Mess Time of the Month. Don’t you love it? I don’t. I hate it. Hates it hates it hates it.

It started this morning. I got to the gym and quickly realized I was early. I try to avoid the 9-9:30 time slot because there’s a Trek and Spin class that uses the treadmills in the open gym. I hate the yelling and the music and most of all I hate that all the trek and spinners are super-skinny and don’t understand that sports bras are not shirts. I do not want to look at their perfectly flat bellies. I do not want to see their toned and taut side ribs. I do not want to count their vertebrae. I’m not offended by their lack of clothing. I am insanely jealous of their bodies. I want a skinny body. I want my muscles to be defined and strong and beautiful. I do not want to wear a ten inch layer of fat that makes me look like I escaped from the set of a tire commercial. I don’t understand how I can work so damned hard and have such unsatisfactory results. The gym manager verbally guaranteed me that I’d have the body I wanted “in months!” I think I need to get my money back because I clearly don’t have the body I want. Not even close.

Things got even better when I got home. My sister had a friend who took hundreds of photos during the wedding and she finally sent me a link to the pictures (I’m not going to bother to post it because I was bored silly looking at the pictures, I can’t imagine any of you would find them exciting). Whooo-hooo! Lots of pictures of me looking plump and mushy next to my skinny little sister and her skinny little bridesmaids. Visions of arm fat and rubbery jowls was exactly the pick me up I needed.

I was also irritated by all the pictures of my nephew. He could be such a nice, cute little guy but my sister has mishandled him badly. She has no idea how to use a little psychology on the kids instead of yelling and being a completely ineffectual harridan. And she won’t cut his hair. His hair drives me nuts. She claims it is beee-you-teee-ful. She doesn’t see that it is just a mixed up rat’s nest. Why would she? She never combs it. I bought some detangler while I was there and that helped, but he still looks like a neglected low-income kid. Real beee-you-teee-ful. I begged her to let me take him in for a hair cut but nothing doing. It was difficult to resist the temptation to just go in and do it while she was in Hawaii, but I know I would freak out (rightly so) if someone did something like that to Erik against my will so I respected her motherly right to have a ragamuffin kid. She has no concept that people are judging him (and her) based on his hair cut. It sounds cruel and awful but it is true. Looks matter in this society. It may not be fair but all other things being equal, a neat and well-groomed child will generally be more popular with both peers and teachers. Granted, he isn’t in school yet, and it isn’t any of my business, but SHEESH. Cut that boy’s hair, already!

I also got spam from my cousin. Yippee. Another person I’m supposed to play nice with but who refuses to understand that I don’t want redneck spam. I’d rather a stranger try to sell me penis pills than a person I know send me exaggerated Republican propaganda.

My inbox also had a long overdue e-mail from the editor who accepted an essay I submitted over a year ago. She never found a publisher for the book so she was letting us all know that we could use our essays for something else. I suspected that would happen and have been waiting for the e-mail, but this was a damned fine day for it to show up.

Mike was a good husband and took Erik to the grocery store. He bought everything on the grocery list I sent including a quilting magazine and a “gooey, ooey, velvety, chewy, fudgey, yummy, thick, rich chocolate THING.” Too bad he bought caramel cadbury cream eggs, the one chocolate thing I won’t eat. I really have to go off sugar. I must. It is imperative. It is necessary. It would behoove me. Sugar must go. MUST MUST MUST MUST MUST.

I don’t even know if I like sweets or I just like the idea of sweets because I have always had a sweet tooth. Nothing ever tastes as good as I think it’s going to taste.

Finally, I went upstairs to relax with my boys after working diligently on my freelance project. I grabbed the pillow that was in the computer chair and threw it at Mike. There was a crash and a bang and a blossoming of crimson. Red wine and shards of glass were everywhere. No one was hurt but our carpet may never recover. We have really nice wine glasses from our wedding but they are slowly being shattered and chipped. Bah humbug.

I hope the sun will come out tomorrow. I don’t want to eat any more worms.

This entry was posted on Friday, February 23rd, 2007 at 7:46 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.