OK, since I'm anonymous, I'll finish my confession. It shouldn't be ok to confess private things in public, no matter how anonymous...but it feels like shouting down a well, so shout I will:
* It's clear that my husband intends to divorce me. I don't know when, but I haven't any doubt of his plans. And because it's a sure thing, I frequently contemplate divorcing him first. But that seems completely evil -- so I just plug along, waiting for the other shoe to fall.
* I despise my husband for making me feel this way. And for his disloyalty. And for cheating on me with some stupid broad he met on the Internet. (And yes, Virginia, it
cheating to have a secret and personal correspondence with another woman in which you speak unkindly and hurtfully about your wife.)
* My husband scorns sex. And I foolishly thought I was giving him a gift. Stupid woman. My only consolation is that he never slept with his first wife, either. I wonder if his
wife will take the bait ("Boo hoo. We only had sex about four times a year.")
posted by The Fat Girl at
2:05 AM
TRB From Washington: Himself by Andrew Sullivan
How's this for bare-naked truth:
..."we are all prone to little efforts at self-aggrandizement in private life as well--the white lie, the name-drop, the satisfied glance at oneself in the mirror at a restaurant. In one of her more candid passages, Greenfield sees this process even in herself as a child: "To my own eternal discomfort, I can even remember ... being for a time entranced by the mystery and romance I believed had accrued to my own image in the eyes of my classmates as a result of my mother's death when I was eleven. I felt ashamed of this, but a stirring picture of myself would nevertheless flicker in and out of the shadows at the edge of my grief."
OK, so here are some things I feel like confessing:
* I'm a drama queen. I can magnify the smallest slight into a jailable offense.
* I still want people to like me, even when I despise them.
* I'm lazier than hell. I'd rather sit on my broad backside than get up and pee.
* I have an insatiable need for flattery. Even false flattery pleases me.
* I use my children to make myself look good to others. I should be incarcerated for being such a bad mother.
* I wish there was no God, so I wouldn't have to think about the consequences of my behavior.
* While my ex husband is genuinely evil, I'm unbearable.
* While my current husband is genuinely grouchy and a chronic complainer, I enjoy wallowing in self-pity.
* I don't like hardly anybody.
* If I could be queen, I'd do it -- and do it very badly. I'd take advantage of everyone, and I'd inhale every bit of flattery offered to me.
* I think most everyone I meet is stupid. And I don't do a very believable job of hiding it.
* I gloat. Deep down I believe that winning a fight is evidence of being in the right, even when the truth is that the loser is simply more gracious than the combative winner.
* I wish I'd been born Jewish or Catholic or anything BUT Mormon, simply because then I'd never have to explain myself to self-righteous "Christians."
* At the same time, I contemplate having the letters "LDS" tattooed across my forehead as a way of daring anyone to make anything of it.
* No, I don't have a problematic metabolism. I'm fat because I eat like Porky the Pig.
* I enjoy swearing. And though I forbid my kids to swear, I can't think of any particularly good reason why they shouldn't.
* The preceding point is a lie. I know bloody good and well that swearing's bad, ungodly, and uncouth. I do it because it feels good.
* And what's the deal with the white handkerchiefs?
* I suspect I have the emotional maturity of a six-year-old.
* I have acquaintences. No friends. Just acquaintences. Some of them believe themselves to be my friend, but not one of them knows one thing on this list.
* Speaking of secrets, a hundred years ago, my father had an affair with my mother's best friend. And I've already decided to lie to my mother about it when her best friend "confesses" -- which will probably happen at my father's graveside. Two decades later, this woman is still revealing details about her disgusting affair to my baby sister, a crime for which she should burn in hell.
* My cousin thinks my grandpa molested my aunt. I can't reconcile it, but my cousin doesn't lie. Cognitive dissonance.
* I haven't been asked to do *anything* at church for more than half a decade. I believe this to be an indictment from God, so I don't wish to attend church any more. If I didn't have kids, I'd stop going altogether. It is astonishingly painful to be unneeded by God Himself. Of course, I'm starting to believe all callings are make-work anyway, so perhaps it's for the best.
* See?
posted by The Fat Girl at
1:35 AM
Tuesday, November 12
Dying right now. A day and a half of fasting...Man, could I go for a seven-layer burrito.
Down about four pounds already.
Yesterday's motivation was provided by Al Roker. We walked into RiteAid to pick up some baby aspirin for my heart-stoppingly large husband, and he was hungry ("Starving," he says. Right.), and asked whether I, too, wanted a candy bar. I pointed out the Al Roker picture on the cover of this month's People mag, but he wasn't the least impressed. Me? I'm the Before picture, so ain't no way I was eating that candy bar.
Yesterday's intake: 1 big glass of water, 1 piece of popcorn, and 1 glass of apple juice.
Guess Roker's my higher motivation. For today, at least.
posted by The Fat Girl at
4:24 PM
Monday, November 11
I talked to Jan -- my Shaklee-obsessed friend, about my fasting plan. She, of course, is all for it. I've fasted before, with no deleterious effects on my health, but this time I think I'll supplement with a little protein powder.
I'll head over there today and plunk down the standard 35 bucks for a can of -- why am I doing this? Fasting should be -- if nothing else -- free.
posted by The Fat Girl at
1:42 PM
It's Monday morning, and I weigh 252 lbs -- which, according to the
National Center for Chronic Disease Prevention and Health Promotion, gives me a body mass index of 39.5 and makes me morbidly obese.
Uggh.
I'm fasting.
The problem with fasting is that in order to stick to it, I need to have a higher purpose than "I'm blubbery."
And the problem with
that is that I'm entirely unmotivated by any higher purpose.
Which may, in itself, be a higher purpose.
