Wah, wah, wah

Stupid hormones. Stupid, stupid hormones. You would think that being able to identify that it is my monthly peak of hormones causing me anger in the blood that it would have some kind of efficacy in actually reducing my levels of grrr. You'd think. You'd be wrong.

I can't seem to decide if my loathing will be directed internally or externally this month. I've seen indications that it could really go either way.

I nearly vowed not to have children today, just to spite someone who was being all self-righteous about being a parent and "oh won't I see one day." It got my back up mightily quick. It's never good when someone triggers the spite reflex in me. It's powerful and scary. I lost 40 pounds fueled on spite remember.

Later in the day, as I was trying to figure out what I was going to wear to a wedding this weekend, all the grrr turned inwards. It truly is a shame that I can't find some way to translate the speed and efficiency with which I dissect and attack myself into something beneficial and potentially lucrative. I'm so very good at this that it seems to be wasted just using the hate to knock down my own self-esteem. Surely it can be used for good somehow?

The internal hate process starts with not knowing what to wear for a late winter/early spring wedding, moves on to me trying on all the dresses I have, almost none of them work. I then don't have the right shoes to wear with the one or two that might be passable and since it takes me four months to find a pair of shoes in my gargantuan size, it's unlikely that there is hope for Saturday. I HAD the right shoes at one time, but they were destroyed by my trying to dismantle a table in three-inch heels and a suit. I freaking LOVED those shoes.

Then the hate-on starts. I'm stupid for not having the right clothes and even more stupid for having worn/purchased the presently useless dresses that currently live in my closet. If I was smart, I would have bought the right one. There's going to come a point where it's going to be painfully obvious that I keep wearing the same dress to every function I go to. I guess we'll know it's 2006/7 by the fact that I look exactly the same in every photo.

I'm also super-stupid for breaking down a table dressed like I was.

I have pontoons for feet and I suck because I can't find shoes and am foolish for thinking I can find cute shoes in my size at a price I can afford. I'm even more of an idiot for blogging about this because I'm just drawing attention to the dress dilemma (and yes, I know that everyone will be looking at someone else's dress that day, as they should, but that doesn't excuse me showing up to an event like this looking like a hobo). If I can't find something right to wear, why don't I at least have a dress that matches the colour of most walls so I can blend into the background. While we're at it, let's toss in some cruel self-judgments about my body, cause old habits die hard.

And then the anger. There are so many more important things in this world than what freaking dress I'm wearing, but I can't, for the life of me, stop fretting and obsessing about it. We're heading to an exciting, deeper level now, because I'm flawed and wrong for letting something like this upset me as much as it does. And at least we have synergy, feeling ugly on the inside and the outside.

All this for a self-righteous comment and a fashion obstacle. Sheesh. Someone give me a slice of cheesecake, a bag of chips and wake me up in a few days when this crap has passed.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Volcano Girls" by Veruca Salt

HRH

Biting my tounge

It's almost too hot to exist, yet I retain the ability to be catty. I was going to write this whole post of what I imagined Avril Lavinge's wedding vows might have sounded like ("So like, I really, like, like Derryk..."), but then got scodled by M who asked "why are we judging the wedding vows of people we don't even know!" and what I should have answered with "Cause it's fun and because if a magazine basically pays for your wedding because you're a celebrity, then you're putting yourself out there for a little mocking." But I didn't say that and I'm not going to mock Avril. Mostly because I haven't written my own vows yet and I have been known to pepper by lines with the sporadic "like" and "you know." And girls in white dresses shouldn't throw blueberries.

Today's sing-a-long song: "Thank you for the venom" by My Chemical Romance

HRH