I’m in a grouchy mood.
Like I want to line up small, fluffy bunnies and punch them in the face grouchy.
I’m liable to shank anything that moves today. It is not pretty. The ONLY good thing I can think of about today is that I’m wearing lemon yellow skinny jeans with nude high heels and my feet tattoos are showing and that’s kind of fun. Other than that – I could be equated with being Satan’s sister today.
Drazil – my hate spewing inner demon – is having a GRAND day in my head. The worst part is that the rational side of my brain – is listening to every word Drazil spits out. I can’t shut him up.
Reason #1 why I’m pissed off at the world is because last night I watched my Week 4 video from the weight loss plan that my work is sponsoring. I think it was titled “Sugar is the enemy”.
Well f*ckballs – let’s all take a guess at what this hour long video is going to say. I lost count of how many times I rolled my eyes at the skinny crotchface on the video who literally counted out and showed me how many teaspoons of sugar are in my precious nectar of the Gods (Mountain Dew).
Then for effect, she counted out teaspoons of sugar in just about everything else I eat.
That woman is a heifer on wheels.
And she’s right…..which makes me want to shank her in the eyeballs even more. (violent much?)
I know sugar is bad. I even know that sugar is an inflammatory that could be the main cause of my migraines. I know it’s bad, bad and worse…but last night I wasn’t in the mood to hear it.
So I ate a Reeses peanut butter egg. Then I ate another one. I’ll show her who controls what I put in my body. Wait. Shit. That’s not really proving anything except that I know how to get fatter.
Dammit. That kinda backfired, didn’t it?
I listed to the woman. I took my quiz. Took my notes. I wrote SUGAR IS EVIL all over my notebook like some high school girl in love writes her boyfriend’s name all over her jeans. I’m so mature.
Even though I tried not to – I learned some shit last night about sugar and diabetes and crap like that. I restrict sugar a little each day (like instead of eating a whole bag of tootsie rolls, I just eat 2 – or 5)(Baby steps, people. Baby steps.) but now I’m going to severely restrict sugar. I owe my body this test.
How will I feel without tootsie rolls or Reeses or Skittles every day? What will my migraines look like with way less sugar? How about my cholesterol and high BP? Mood? Sleep?
All of it.
Still – to the woman on the video…I want to yell, “F*ck you and the I’m-skinny-you-can-be-too train you rode in on.”
The second reason why I’m hating life right now is where Drazil comes in.
I married a man that is kind beyond reason. He’s like Jesus Christ’s step-son or something.
He is generous to a fault. He’s also married to a selfish witch.
I’m not saying that so you’ll say, “Oh honey, you’re not a selfish witch.”
I’m saying it because it is literally true.
Rambo worked in the semi all day yesterday and then when he was done it was already 5pm. At that point – he STILL decided it was the right thing to do to drive 2 hours away to visit his sister in the hospital. He gets there and when he is done visiting, he goes out to eat with his parents and brother.
He pays for everyone’s meal.
He buys his sister get well flowers.
He fills my car up to the top.
He spreads love and cheer wherever he goes. His nickname is Mary Poppins.
His real name should be Rainbow Brite. He should ride a unicorn with rainbow-colored hair.
I was home in bed by the time Rambo got home. I hear him come quietly to bed. I feel him wrap his arms around me and say he loves me. I contemplate kicking him but decide not to and I drift back to sleep.
We wake up in the morning and I’m an asshole.
A complete dickwad to him as he tries to tell me all about his night.
Do you know the only thing I can think about is that he paid for everyone’s meal? The fact that it was at Hooters may or may not have a lot to do with this. I mean isn’t it awkward (and stupid) to sit and eat a meal with your senior citizen mother at Hooters?
I’m saying shit like, “You worked most of the day in the semi just to pay for your family’s food.”
I mean – evil stuff is just falling out of my mouth like lava out of a volcano – as I get ready to walk out the door.
Rambo had the audacity to grab me, hug me and say, “Try to come home in a better mood, ok? Quit being Crabbypants.”
Really? This is NOT just Crabbypants. This is I want to shoot daggers out of my eyes at you.
The whole time Drazil is screaming in my head:
What is wrong with you – you witch? The man works 40 some days straight for you and just hands over his check with never a complaint and you begrudge him one meal at Hooters? What kind of person are you? What kind of wife are you? He’s going to leave you. You don’t deserve him. How dare you make him feel bad for doing good things? You are the definition of selfish. You aren’t Satan’s sister – you are Satan’s MOM. The guy lives and breathes for you and you’re mad at him for doing the right thing and buying a meal and going to Hooters? MY GOD – I can’t figure out why he hasn’t walked out of here yet.
This time – Drazil is right. It’s ok to say it. It’s the truth. All damn morning I’ve been trying to figure out why this triggers such anger in me. Am I still that insecure? Am I honest to God THAT selfish? Where is this coming from? What is wrong with me???
I don’t have the answers. I just don’t. We’re talking about $70 here people.
And a place where the women are clothed. And a sister who was ill.
This is SO not about money.
Every reaction I have about this is wrong, wrong and more wrong. There are days when I think I’ve come a long way in the learning to love myself area and then there are days like this when I realize I have a lot to learn and a lot to fix. I am still so flawed in so many ways.
If you don’t agree with me and you’re about to tell me “oh you’re just human – you’re not evil” ….well here. Let me prove that I birthed Satan.
While Rambo was out doing the right thing and I was busy being pissed about it,
I found the time to buy another Coach purse.
Now do you believe me?
I have some internal thinking to do. THIS is not the person I want to be. Nor the wife that Rambo deserves. How on Earth can I still be this horrible person after all the intense soul-searching that I’ve done?
How is that possible?
It’s been a long time since I’ve used the word hate in terms of how I feel about who I am but today – I feel it. I hate this part of me. I hate my reactions and my feelings. I hate that I can’t figure out why I feel the way I do. I hate the words I spoke this morning.
I hate this day.
I hate Drazil when he’s right. He’s such an arrogant bastard as it is and today I can’t quiet him. All day long – he’ll scream….and I can’t even fight him. Because today the words he screams are true.
That’s hard to admit.
Harder yet to fix.
Damn you, Drazil. Just damn you.