*In the grocery store parking lot, I hear screeches and screams. Likely just a car seat inspired tantrum. Yet for some reason, the fear that it wasn’t haunts me on my way back to work. Should I have called?
*They finally posted for another me at work. Squee-bliss! I keep thinking of how I can take the day off soon and not be called. While part of me loves being needed, the other half of me is lazy and hates the work.
*Despite being in the National Post, this story is incredibly moving.
*I have to go to Tennessee again in March. Which means terror because I am gaining weight off this fucking drug, and those seats are small enough. Nothing makes you feel like a piece of shit like struggling with a seat belt, and having people stare. I feel like getting a sign that says “I’m not lazy-I have a desk job and I’m crazy.” I like flying. It’s all the other people, and the utter unreasonableness of the seat size that drives me nuts. I know I’m fat-but the recent bloating isn’t me.
&The breathing thing is still an issue. But everything I can find talks about it being in my head, so I doubt there’s any point in going to the doctor. Or they’ll tell me it’s because I’m fat. Since EVERYTHING always is when I go to the doctor.
*I want to stop whining about my life. I spent the weekend getting irritated by so much middle to upper class whining that I nearly puked. What the fuck do we have to complain about? Shit-I’m barely in the middle class, and I feel ungrateful. It just really ate at me-people with everything, still whining. Or maybe I should stop reading the Africa section of BBC News.
*The cat hates every single brand of wet food we give him, cheap or expensive.
*I hate turkey.
*I’m bloated from potatoes.
*And yes Virginia, I AM whining.
Don’t get a sign. Get a shirt.
Our cat is finicky about wet food, too; so far, Natural Life is a fair winner so far. And it’s in between cheap and expensive.
I understand and respect your desire to maintain gratitude / perspective on the kinds of complaints we deal with vs. what people in Africa and so on deal with. On the other hand, I think what we deal with is worth compassion and understanding and respect, too.
Oh god, the plane seats….
We went from London to Amsterdam and my seatbelt wasn’t buckled. I couldn’t get it to. The last thing I could bear was telling some tiny European flight attendant that the fat American needs a belt extender. I was afraid they didn’t have them and would ask me to leave!!
It has scarred me so badly, I am afraid to fly now.
I’ve been known to hide the seatbelt under my sweater. They never ask.