Bah, I say. BAH!

So cranky. So very, very cranky. I don't know what fucking hormone storm is blustering around in my body, but I'm one pissy Princess. Frowny. Grumpy. Lookin' for a fight. Or it could be the trashcan of crap I've consumed in the last 3 days. Stupid, stupid me.

I had a pretty good weekend. Spent some time outdoors, rode my horse, went to a party, enjoyed a horse show, hung with good friends, had many laughs. Drank.

Ahh, the drinking. Here's where I made some mistakes. I didn't get hosed. In fact, I had to put in a college effort to get a nice buzz going. But I mixed champagne punch and wine, then cheap wine. And a couple cig's. Add all of that to a smattering of weird food and kaboom. My parts done 'sploded.

I feel like shit warmed over. Then I'm angry about it. Then I feel like shit some more. I don't know if it's a combination of age plus absence of thyroid plus being so out of shape if there was a lard ass mobile, like a dog catcher for people, tooling around netting fatties eating french fries, I'd be shoved into a little compartment and have my little button nose pressed to one of those vent things you see on the side of the Humane Society trucks. But the mere fact that I can't do what I did 10 years ago is irritating as all hell! And is this normal or just me?

I'm so mad at myself. How many fucking wake-up calls do I need? Pants don't fit? Nope. Allergies? Nope. Ass the size of a tanker? Nope. Coughing up crap? Nope Whole body hurts? Nope. Can't walk up the stairs without wheezing? Nope. Can't sleep? Nope. Head feels like it's going to pop off of my neck like a zit? Nope. CANCER? Hell nope!

I do a great job looking after everyone else, but I do not take care of me. I don't eat right. Don't work out. Don't get enough sleep. I'm really nasty to myself inside and out and I don't get it. I'm awesome. Well, most of the time I'm pretty darn kick-ass. Why don't I care enough?

I watched an episode of Oprah yesterday that I'd saved on my DVR. It was all about the damage we do to our bodies by not eating the right food and how it increases our risks of looking like an old shoe filled to the brim with polyps and plaque. These doctors showed up and brought actual body parts with them. A fucked up colon, a totaled pair of kidneys, a disease-ridden liver, etc. It was awful. And the worst part? I bet that's what I look like on the inside now. I'm teetering on the edge of totally giving up and kicking into good health overdrive. But I'm so tired. Lord amighty, it takes so much effort!

I've spent 2 days with my head pounding my back aching my knees throbbing, and my stomach yelling at me. But I still don't have the key. Every time I think I've had some god damn epiphany, something happens that crushes my little theatrical world and I'm back to square negative 10. Otherwise known as snotty whiny babyville.

Intellectually, I know this is all a conscious decision to make. It's not a matter of will power or luck or a sudden urge to eat broccoli. I'm just not sure what's keeping me from making this important conviction to myself. It's literally life and death for me and I don't know what's wrong with my fucking stupid brain that allows me to fool myself. How psychotic is that?

Bah.


p.s. I tried to find a pic of that mutated disgusting horrific snake-like thing I talked about but it made me want to poke my eyes out with a rusty screwdriver and I'm sure I'm going to have a nightmare about snakes tonight. Bah.

p.p.s OK. I found one, because I'm a trooper and you all owe me now because IT WAS TRAUMATIC. Go look for yourself and don't say you haven't been warned. BAH!