Saturday, September 3, 2016

Frumpy, Grumpy & Lumpy

The following is result of Operation Blog Recovery (Of what I could retrieve): The following content is collected from a platform that is no longer operational. Gaps and spaces in the formatted text could be the result of broken and/or expired emoticons, links or web-hosted pictures. You can be assured that the opinions and thoughts expressed are from the original writing. Hell, I’m not even going to correct spelling or grammar. Enjoy! Or not.

Originally posted on December 14, 2009

Current mood:  grumpy
Category: Life



This is fast becoming a spectacularly unspectacular day. I'm experiencing an overly-sensitive episode where I think everyone's out to get me or wrong me in some cold-hearted way. I spent practically all day Sunday crying like a big ole silly baby. 😭 My eyes were so swollen that you'd think I'd gotten punched in both eyes by Mike Tyson, pre-prison. I feel like a defeated & deflated loser. 😫 Everything feels off kilter and I feel out of sync with just about everyone right now. When I feel this pitiful, I don't know anything else to do but to write, so here I write. This all-consuming feeling of gloom is only exacerbated by the fact that I'd asked Sis to put me on a strict diet to shed my juicy extras, which I've just started on today. Bonus: I get to eat all the lettuce I want! 🥬 In retrospect, I probably should've picked a more emotionally stable time to start reconfiguring my figure. My mood isn't helping but I definitely feel lumpier than usual. Carb-watching in my delicate state might be a recipe for disaster. Depression + Diet (could) = Danger if I'm not careful. The seemingly distant chant of the words "Eat me!" coming from the crackers in my overhead cabinet at work was particularly cruel.😔 Even if I didn't actually tell you that I was out-of-sorts, you could probably guess by the unfashionable ensemble I chose to wear to work today. As I joked to my co-workers, I was severely 'fashionably-challenged' today.  To help me feel better, one of my always-fashionable co-workers told I me that I didn't look bad, just "comfortable". Bless her kind heart but I knew the truth. I looked like a blind, one armed man dressed me in hopes of winning the "2009 Truly Tackiest of the Year" award. 🏆 If the garment selection wasn't bad enough, I noticed after I got to work this morning that I had a huge white glob of toothpaste on the front of my shirt. 🪥 Thankfully, I keep an old Mister Rogers' type cardigan in my office. However, with everything else I had on, I managed to make myself look even frumpier in it, if that was even possible. As dumb luck would have it, this was one of the rare occasions when it was actually hot my office. As sweltering as it was, I didn't dare remove my cardigan. Tacky is one thing but tacky *AND* messy is quite another.  As whoa is me as this entry is, I'm not looking for sympathy or an encouraging word like usual (though Sis has been great at it). Frankly, I just want to bitch, bitch, bitch until I miraculously feel better. 🤬 Hey, it could happen. 🤷🏾‍♀️  The most petrifying part of it all is that this might be the best I'll feel for a while since I still have my period and crowded Christmas shopping to look forward to. Man, I feel this crappy and it's only Monday. Daaamn, I could sure use a box of Cheez-Its or Cup-O-Soup right about now. I suppose that would be a deliciously starchy short-term solution to a potentially long-term problem. I don't care what anyone says, crack cocaine ain't got shit on complex carbs! I know what you're thinking, I hate pessimistic whiney complainers too. 😠 You needn't even say it because I want to kick my own ample azz. But at the end of the day, it's not really about diets, defeat or even depression, it's about feeling free to take your own personal pity day. It's about giving one's self the permission to feel bad every once and a while...with no apologies. 😣 The way I figure it, if I simply let myself 'feel how I'm feeling', the flatulently fart-fragranced stink days should be minimal at best...that's my untested theory anyway. Did I just type the word "fart" and base a whole psychological prognosis on it? I bet that's never happened before. 🤔 Come to think of it, my random fart-related diagnosis might have less to do with psychology and more to with the ungodly amount of lettuce I've consumed today. 



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