Something's wrong with the world today

And yesterday, and maybe even the day before that.

For starters, the weather has been unusually mild. While temperatures hovering around 95-100F may not seem that mild to most folks, here in the ArkLaTex, that's mild for summer. The last too many summers have been 100-112F with heat index values making it seem even worse.

There has been a lot of horseshit going on in the world at large that just hurts the heart. The injustice in Sanford Florida, the non-stop gun violence in Chicago, people leaking classified information, the state government passing laws dictating what I can and cannot do with my own vagina, and continued unrest in the middle East are just the tip of the iceberg.

On the home front, it's just as off. It seems we are living in a constant state of renovation, cash-flow crises, and the never-ending battle to get the state that can spend $1.6 MILLION to pass laws governing my vagina to DO SOMETHING ABOUT THE SALVINIA THAT IS KILLING OUR LAKES.

It all felt a bit off all summer; but for the last three days, it's been almost like I am walking through a dream world. I guess the trigger was the conversation I finally had with my mom--the first one since mother's day. Now, don't get me wrong. My mom is a great mom. She's not perfect, but neither am I.

It's always been tense, strained, difficult. I suppose I'm grateful that our conversation went better than I expected, even if it didn't go as well as either of us had hoped. I wish it could be different, but it probably never will.

I suppose the only thing to do is quit trying to figure it all out, get up off my ass, and go clean the bathroom or iron some clothes or something. Sometimes, I'm not meant to have all the answers, and I'm not meant to be the one to "fix" it.

Yo ass gonna get wider

So this weekend, my co-worker, Tony, told me I needed to lay off the pancakes because my ass was gonna get wider.

Now, before you go getting all angry at Tony, know that he wasn't being a misogynist asshole. Tony was just trying to push my buttons, the way my brother used to before my brother became so miserable and bitter. Tony would never have made a funny about my butt if I hadn't already been doing the same. Tony is a-ok in my book; he only acts all growly and grumpy--he's really a teddy bear.

Back to the point of this post. While there was no malice in Tony's comment, there was truth. I'm not 23 and strung out on meth anymore; I'm not even a stagehand who doesn't stop moving the whole time she's at work anymore. This means that I can no longer get away with eating all the cookies and calling it lunch.

Y'all, this ain't gonna be easy for me. I've used cookies (and candy and cuppity cakes) in place of dope these last eight years. This means I'm having to give up another fix. The good news is that there is a solution for this. The 12 steps have been geared toward the disease of addiction rather than a specific substance, so there is hope.

The other upside is that I am far less worried about size than I am about general health and wellness. I have been experiencing serious lack of energy, and part of that can be attributed to sugar spikes and the ensuing crash. I know that I feel better when I eat more like my Sunshine, I just keep giving in to that craving for all the chocolate.

It's just that some days suck, and chocolate makes them suck less. Maybe I just need a meeting, and the new perspective that a meeting always brings.