Goooooood Morning!!

Morning.

Why is it that the morning is so nummy? I want to lay in bed and pet the boobas. And they stretch and snuggle-and put up with each other to be closer to me. And then I jump up and decide I cannot stand the kitchen any longer. Because, in the evening I just don’t have the energy to look at the kitchen. Or walk into it. Or think about it. But in the morning- it seems ok. But ugh! RM gets up early lately. And not necessarily spoils the reverie, but interrupts it. I like my private time: when the boobas stare up at me and wonder what I’m doing, and wonder whether they are going to get a treat, and the kitchen gets cleaner inch-by-inch.

And did I mention that I am half naked? Because no one is supposed to see me, and I don’t care what I look like—it’s not as if I have full length mirrors lining the walls, or even mirrors at all, for that matter.

When you are large, heavy, you don’t have many mirrors. And I have perfected the mirror trick, I look into a small mirror, that I can only see about 3 inches of my face at a time. You get a very distorted vision of yourself that way: putting together an image – overlapping every two inches or so. But most people have a distorted self-image, I would say. Thin ones want to be-oh, I don’t know, thinner- or less hairy or bigger breasts or nicer thighs, lighter hair, straighter hair. Big ones just want to be acceptable—whatever that entails. So: thinner, taller, longer, leaner, prettier, smarter, neater, more fashionable, better paid.

Uncomfortable.

So: half naked, bending and moving and showing only heaven fears what and interrupted reverie. Oh, ok--time to take a shower, running late, anyway. Ooooh, way late!!!

Heavy morning. NO! Have nutritionist tonight! Ugh! A day early, too. Not fair! Not Fair!! Drink lots of water. Prepare water bottles. Make shake for breakfast, put in extra for lunch.

AHHH! Get to work ahead of boss! Hooray. Get stopped by do-gooder. What’s with the voice? Trying to scare me stupid with story of strep throat and kidney damage and eventual death. Long, long story. Certain it’s just allergies. Learn that her mother passed when she was 12. Very sad story. And uncomfortable. Learning stuff about someone you barely know—a certain religious person, who doesn’t necessarily seem the religious type. The hypocritical type, more like. Later, after finally done—see her talking in back of office to someone else, must note that she is boss’s pet. Come back and she announces she got in trouble because of me. Because she was talking. Uh huh, whatever.

And now, writing this for my blog. And I realize, not for the first time, that I get up happy, ready for something—more than this. And yet I come here and know… what exactly is it that I know? That I was meant for more? Yes. That I wasn’t mean to be a grunt? Yes. That I am smarter and funnier and more extraordinary than this place will ever allow me to be? Yes, yes, yes!!
But I cannot work with such disquiet; I cannot pay my bills with out a job. So I will put it away. Cover it up, bury it, until I can focus, not on my life, but on the stacks I have piled up next to me. My goal: to get my desk cleared, so I can begin again tomorrow. And tomorrow.