Ugliness - I would skip this entry if I was you

I woke up this morning mad at myself. I was mad because I went out drinking, ate horrible food, and smoked like a little chimenia. I feel fat. More than that, I feel like it’s my enlarged liver making me feel and look so distorted. I made a pact with myself before I got out of bed to stop beating myself up for today. 20 minutes of self-loathing before I start my day is enough.

I jumped over to the bathroom mat, reached up to the shelf and picked up my pills. 7 little orange dots looked up at me. This explains everything, and fills me with dread at the same time. Yea me. I get to be a hormonal mess for the next week. Boo men. You will be my victims over the next week. Sorry, I know it’s wrong, but that’s what the orange pills dictate. You loose, but know that I will fluctuate between hating myself and hating you equally. It’s fair enough I suppose, considering all the stupid things you guys do. See, there I go already.

I had a quick conversation with the hubby this morning. He used his little boy voice while explaining a raccoon decided to move into the attic. The hubby and roommate have dubbed him Rocky Raccoon, for obvious reasons. It appears the cat food buffet in our garage is a welcoming bonanza for critters. The cats are pissed are pissed at old Rocky for eating all the food, but what can they do? The whole conversation irritated me immediately. First of all, how many times can I tell you the little boy voice is creepy? It is down right disturbing. Have I not explained that this element is a piece of the “I’m not attracted to you sexually” problem? Good lord. Grab your balls and flush out that animal, and do it with a manly voice.

The next part of our discussion was even more disturbing. He asks how I’m doing, to which I respond, “I’m fine, I feel a little fat today”. He replies, “I know. Me too.” WHAT? It’s obvious that thousands of dollars in couple’s therapy went to waste. In fear of my head exploding, I had to hang up the phone.

I sat there, and cried at my desk. I can’t believe this is happening to me. I can’t imagine this is my life. I’m so pissed. Pissed at myself, at him, at everyone. This weekend when I saw him, I realized he gained even more weight. He’s at least 230 – 240 pounds. The doctors are pleading with him to get the weight off. He knows his MS will retaliate, and his heart condition is threatened as well. He can’t run right now, because once again he got drunk and broke another rib. (This is the 2nd time in a year he broke a rib as a result of drinking).

Again, it makes me want to cry. Why won’t he take responsibility for himself? He tells me that the last thing in the world he wants is a divorce, but when I look at the reality of it I’m confused. If you wanted to have a relationship with someone, would you do everything you could to push them away? Would you gorge yourself on alcohol and frozen pizzas? Would you damage your body to the point that someone else will have to take care of you?

Wow, my hormones must be in full effect. Let’s hope the week goes by really fast.