CONFESSIONS OF A FAT GIRL

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Actually, I was having a perfectly nice day until my father called to berate me for eating like a pig on Passover and for "fallin off the wagon" on my diet.

Gee, I don't know how I got so lucky.

I wanna go home now.

Perpetuating Stereotypes

Just wanna clear something up...

I don't want to perpetuate any stereotypes. Yes, my mother and I are not getting along right now and my mother happens to be Jewish. And I know there are a lot of moms out there, Jewish and not, giving daughters all over the world hard times. LOL. But I don't want anyone to doubt for a minute that I love my mom, that I know she loves me and actually, despite whatever issues I have with her methods, I know she thinks she is doing the right thing by staying on me about my problems.

There have been olenty of times when my mother has been there for me like a trooper.

And so I just wanted to say that cause there's been a lot of hating on moms and I TOTALLY understand that, of course, but I don't want anyone to think I was trying to create and perpetuate the "Jewish Mother" stereotype cause if you know me, you know it's not really my style to be that way.

Is this making sense?

Yes, some moms suck, but more often than not, I like to believe and hope they don't.

For dinner tonight, by the way, I had a sensible salad and drank a lot of water. That's not really relevant but when I can plan and execute a healthy meal, I feel rather proud of myself so I wanted to brag. LOL.

Freud Rules!

So, quite a few mom-issues all around, it seems.

Thank you, one and all, for your comments and support. And keep them coming if you will because they really make me feel good. One of my friends told me today that (and I can't do this verbatum as my mind is moosh tonight) -- that your family is sort of what you make it. Your friends are just as much family. Which is true. You crazy kids are my online family.

When I argue with my mother or father or they piss me off, I generally react one of two ways. First one would be I cut myself off from them for days and plant myself, firmly, on the couch with anything within an arm's reach that is remotely edible. And there I sit and sulk and/or cry until I'm too tired and go to bed.

I know, I know -- it's uplifting, no?

But tonight it was door number TWO where in I go a little crazy, tearing apart my room, hanging up anything on the floor, tossing shoes into the closet, and in this case, do two loads of laundry and refuse to eat because I am now going to be anorexic to IMMEDIATELY be thin and REALLY show my mom who's the champion.

The "Anorexia" lasts about 2 hours til I can't fight off the urge for ice cream any longer, FYI.

I'll say this about tonight's semi-insanity. I am washing so many clothes, it's likely I'll now not need to do laundry again for a while. Hoorah!

What I Need is a Good Therapist

You're gonna have to pardon me in advance because while I normally try to refrain from cussing here like I do in "real life" (seriously, I know I have a very unladylike foul mouth), I am too depressed and too angry to control myself tonight.

I am so sick of trying to please my mother. I don't know why, at my age, I even continue to try but don't we all do this?

On my way to Passover dinner, to see my mom Saturday night, I joked in the car how I knew she would immediately make a crack about my messy hair. I was going for a cute-curly-poofy thing that didn't come out all right but I thought it was passable. And she did not disappoint. Even in the presence of the friend I brought home with me, after hello (or did she even say hello?), she gave me "that look" and commented on the hair.

On Sunday, she commented again on the hair and even gave me a hair gel she thought I might like. She disguises that kind of thing as a favor or gift, but it's an insult. I am not fooled. Actually, an hour before she and my father were coming to pick me up, she called to check what I planned to wear. God forbid I wear something inappropriate, my cousins and Aunts and Uncles might think she was a shitty parents.

Dark jeans and a black top, by the way. We don't dress up in my family -- my Uncle, for example, was in gym shorts and a t-shirt.

I helped myself to a chcolate covered macaroon. In fact, I had one on Saturday night- just one! And then I had one on Sunday night. When my mom looked at me in a way that clearly said "do you really need that?" I went ahead and had a second one. Cause you know what? Fuck you. Scold me like a 5 year old and I'll do it twice to spite you. No, it's not mature but I just don't give a shit.

Yes, I will cut my nose to spite my face. Go ahead. Dare me. Tempt me.

When I signed up for Karate, they laughed at me. Both of my parents. When they were done laughing, I sort of whined how that hurt my feelings and then, when my mom apologized, she lectured me on how I would probably hurt myself and needed to be extra careful.

Again? Fuck you.

I had my first group class tonight and I was JAZZED. It totally kicked my ass. I was red in the face and sweaty and sticky and exhausted but I was so PROUD of myself and felt SO good about it. I am excited for Wednesday night. And why did I call my parents? I guess I was naively hoping they would care. But I got a lecture from my mother about how much crap I put in my mouth over the weekend and she is done (oh yeah- "done." right.) talking to me about it because she is sick of arguing.

Who argues? She lectures. She nags. She guilts. And I take it like a sucker. And I feel like shit.

My thyroid has always been borderline. But I took a blood test a couple weekends ago and I guess this time, it came back that I definitively have a problem. So I gotta take a pill. Big deal. My mother ranted that I can't go through my life fixing my problems with pills.

She didn't say that, by the way, when she went on a perscription weight loss pill. Or when my father went on blood pressure meds or blood thinners or thyroid pills or ambien...

So what do I do - NOT take something? Yeah, that's a great effing idea. Let's let it become a MAJOR problem and REALLY make it hard on me to lose a few pounds.

Who doesn't LOVE a challenge? Better yet, an IMPOSSIBLE challenge. Woo hoo, mom.

Say it with me, one more time: Fuck you.

God, I am so hurt and angry and disappointed, I am completely NOT hungry - and that means something. I tried to eat some fruit but took one look at it and felt sick.

I'm slightly heartbroken at the reality of it all. I know my parents love me and I do love them. I just wish I didn't feel like I had to meet their approval - I wish I could shake that. But I wish, of course, they would, just once, APPROVE. Or, at the very least, FAKE IT AND SHUT UP.

Because Because Because

I have to say, up front, that for the most part, I have very supportive parents. I am very lucky that way. And frankly, most parents would have given up by now. I mean, I've done counseling and nutritionists (yes, plural as in I have tried them more than once), Lindora (twice), Weight Watchers (countless times), Fen Phen, diet pills... My weight problem is not new. I've battled it all my life.

So that's how I know that when my mother opens her big mouth and says something painfully awful, it comes from a place of meaning well. But it doesn't ever reduce the sting.

On Friday, I asked my boss for a promotion. Long story short, she had a very curt, formal, non-expressive response and it sent me into a spiral of confusion. When my mom asked me how the meet went, I told her what had happened and my mom, as she does, tried to figure out why it ended the way it did. Whereas my father comes at things like this from a business perspective, my mom comes at a little more like.... well, a woman. LOL.

"Has she ever expressed a dissatisfaction with your appearance or weight? Maybe that's why she wasn't interested?"

To which, without thinking, I spat out "fuck you."

Now, I would never EVER tell my mom to fuck off but God that hurt. I immediately just reacted as if she was some person, and not my mother. But I then broke down crying and yelled at her how hurtful it is when she says such things and how I know plenty of mothers that would just take my side and not judge me and tell me how great I am and that I deserve to be promoted, and so on. She apologized but only after I told her to but then she also started to cry because (I assume) she felt so bad she'd hurt me so deeply. Then she went into the "you know how much I love you" bit and I just suggested we forget that the conversation even happened so that I could get over it and would not have to lord it over her forever and ever.

Mothers and daughters. Complicating lives since the dawn of man.