Sometimes I crawl into my mother’s lap and I just snuggle in there … knowing I’m way too big to be carrying on this way - but enjoying the lap experience even so. A man I’m seeing (lol! That sounds so much better than the reality so let’s just go with the fantasy, k?) says that I’m kinda searching for the parent I didn’t quite get, but I really hate that typical therapeutic bullshit. It reminds me of the other day when I was watching some Oprah show about (what else?!) dieting and weight loss/food plans/ etc. I find these shows absolutely ADDICTING. I always wanna just see the after the life change people when they walk onto the stage next to their fat former selves. So anyway - I’m watching this show impatiently (of course) cuz I just wanna get to the end (don’t act surprised!). Here is this guy who is like … 500 somethin pounds. I’m not kidding. And he says something like um “I use food for love” - and I lost it. I absolutely lost it. As far as I’m concerned, people watch too much of this psychological bullshit babble. Too many wanna be “Doctors” say some key things that in theory are pretty damn true (Food is an addiction - people who are overweight often use food to self medicate…) and I just think that often times people drink up that stuff like another Frosty from Wendy’s. Slurp Slurp Slurp. Now let’s repeat what we just drank in. Oh yeah … I’m fat because food is a drug. I’m fat because my mommy didn’t love me and I turned to food. I’m fat because gas is almost 5.00/gal. I hate hearing what people think people want to hear. We all know how food isn’t love anymore - but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re sitting on the Oprah stage at 500 plus pounds dying of obesity. Knowing that “love is food to me” does not cure anyone of their addiction. So where is the connection, you know? Could the connection be that isolating and eating is an easy cure for anxiety and loneliness - and risking rejection or whatever is more difficult so a person who struggles with weight picks the “easy” choice with the predictable result? That feels more “real” to me than spouting off some psychological babble bullshit. Sorry - rant over. Wait - let me just tie it back to what I was saying: So when the man I am seeing gives me some of that psychological babble bullshit after I’m telling him something that REALLY has the issue I want to talk about - it upsets me. Yeah yeah yeah - dysfunctional, co-dependent, unhealthy. LOL. Can we have some new terms, here?

I’m not sure if this impatience is a new thing to me, by the way, or something that was always here but just a hidden side of me. It can be pretty entertaining at times, but I realize it can also come off as particularly cold and heartless. Bitchy-like. I’m seriously a sweetheart. Most of the time. I think.

Back to my mom … I was sitting in her lap - smelling a spot on her shirt that reminded me of raspberry sorbet or somethin’ - and I was telling her how I don’t have any time. Her response to me? “CeCe - you were saying this when you were 8 years old. ‘But Mom’ - you said to me, ‘I want to do everything NOW because who knows if tomorrow I will still have the time!!!’ ” Yeah. 8 years old. Amazing ain’t it? I was an emotional wreck even as a young child. *takes a bow*

So today I ran around like I had a rocket up my ass. No it’s not the drugs - and no I can’t sell you any. I don’t think. I went to the gym and worked out with my ex boss for an hour - then we went shopping to pick up a “few” groceries. Yeah right. We went to CostCo. You can not pick up a “few” of anything there. Costco is love - and I am certain I have substituted Cosco for love. There, I said it, Dr. Oz. So - we go to Costco - then I fill up my prescription - and then I go back to my friend’s house and jump in her pool to cool off for a few - then I remember I have to take my groceries home too - so we go back to my house. Then we pick up Jackson who got an impromptu hair cut from a friend who is staying at our house (she has too MUCH time on her side… she’s not a groomer and Jack looks a fricken hot mess…) and we continue to go for an hour walk (11,024 steps today!!) and then I realize that I have done absolutely nothing today for myself really - like no alone time, you know how that is, right? And I started to get REALLY cranky/bitchy/pouty/passive aggressive. Danger zone. Seriously. And what is it that makes me so damn cranky?

I look at that damn clock and I think to myself - I need about 10 more hours in a day. I need time to sift everything back into my life. I’m convinced that I could possibly make it all fit. Maybe. If I tried. Hard enough. I start to feel cheated - then I start to panic because there is SO much I want to do… so much … and there is this limit on my life called a “day” which has this annoying thing in it called “hours” which are limited to 24 hours. Then my own mother gently reminds me (while laughing softly at my misery - just like a mom! lol!) that I have plenty of time and that people always feel this way - and that this is “life”. That I will do all the things that I want and more - if they are right for me to do… I’ll always want to do more and that is healthy. (??) So I guess I can stay with that for a moment. It’s 11:32 now and I logged in an hour before I thought I would be able to but an hour later than I had been shooting for. You get what I’m saying, right? But I am trying to take solace in the smaller victories here - and the things I am discovering and learning about myself. I’m granting myself an hour of totally useless Oprah Philosophy because hey … everybody needs a little time away (I heard her say…. *Extra points for the song reference, boys!*) and there will be time. For everything. Within reason.

I hope.