Someone mentioned to me that I have not blogged since May 2. Someone also sent me a Myspace message, confused as to where I had disappeared to. Many of you have sent me small notes of concern, undoubtedly missing your daily dose of baby fat because my delusions of grandeur keep me secure in the knowledge that I am that meaningful in people’s lives.
Perhaps you’ve missed pointing and laughing at the fat jokes, the 2-year-old that hates her mother, the husband that would cross to the dark side if he had the chance to meet Darth Vader, the son who catches conversational nuances that means that despite his being 4 years old and not able to read yet, has rendered it impossible to spell in front of him because he catches the drift in a weird, mind-reading sort of way. Perhaps you’ve missed my sunny smile, my supermodel good looks, my belly that jiggles when I laugh because I am striving to be like Santa on a daily basis, down to the white chin hairs.
Who knows what it is that has made you miss me. Yet, I know that you missed me.
And where have I been?
I could tell you the truth. Or I could possibly stretch the truth a little.
It’s impossible to describe, really. How does a superhero explain her absence when the fate of the world rests on her shoulders and her shoulders alone?
It started with a plane ride. Then the plane went down and landed on a tropical island. We thought we would be saved. We hoped. We prayed. But then the island and its secrets soon consumed our thoughts, our fears. We ran into a polar bear and shady men who kidnapped women and children. Secret hatches and …
Wait. You know that story, right? That one just won’t work now. Darn those Hollywood producers with their oh-so-accurate plot lines that threaten my undercover work.
It really started with a boat ride with some friends. It was a day trip. But soon, we hit a bad patch of weather. The five passengers and I thought we were doomed. But we survived and shipwrecked on an uncharted desert isle. That little three-hour tour turned into…
Not buying it?
How about I’m a struggling young mother from the wrong side of the tracks that got a break in a law office only to find out about a case where the town water was tainted and poisoned causing all sorts of ills and deaths. I took on the political mucky-mucks and…
Done already, right? Hmm.
Truth be told, I had a bit of a bumpy road for a week or two where I wasn’t feeling so hot. My girl parts started rebelling and working improperly (which suddenly gave me a strange picture about an angry vagina. Anyone? Anyone? Just me? Okay then.). I wasn’t feeling good. I didn’t really leave the house and I finally spoke to someone that called me in something that made the awful symptoms stop. Seriously, it was just no fun. It required numerous costume changes, copious amounts of laundry and iron supplements. Catch my drift? And for the sake of any male readers I may have, I won’t go beyond that. Suffice it to say that it knocked me off kilter for a while (and my position there had been perilous as it was, seeing how precarious kilters are known to be).
Once I was feeling better I took on enormous amounts of work and lost insane amounts of sleep.
Prior to this madness starting, I had started South Beach (it really does seem to work for me). I was feeling great doing it. The problem lies in the fact that I realize just how much I turn to food as a coping mechanism. I start feeling more and learning more and realizing more. I’m an introspective person but this makes me even more so. I tend to turn inward for a short span of time while I try to regain control in some way, and I try to figure out how to make it work for me. I’ve lost 11 pounds so far and I feel really good. But if I start talking about pigging out on fattening food do not mock me and tell me you told me so. Nothing worse than a fat girl admitting to eating healthy only to not stick to it and be reminded of the failure.
You can say it. I’m screwed up. But you like me that way. Admit it! It’ll be our secret. I won’t tell anyone.
I’m lying. I’ll tell everyone. You like me. You really, really like me!
I did miss everyone. I did read blogs and tried to stay caught up as much as possible with all you delightful, beautiful internets that have my undying love, devotion and sloppy affection. Would it be awkward if we hugged down? Thanks. But hey, why’d you just lick my neck? I was the one with the sloppy affection. Cheeky little internets. I knew you liked me.
