Jibs & Jabs of a Cranky Old Hag
Scale, scale on the floor – tell me the truth and lie no more.
I woke up one morning around 3 AM to go do what old people do at 3 AM - use the bathroom. On the way back to bed, I went into the kitchen. While in there, I spotted the scale on the floor so; I decided that since I haven’t weighed myself in about a month, I’d step on it to see what I weighed.
In the dimly lit kitchen it read 265. I was so upset. That’s a 15 pound-difference from when I weighed myself last month. How did I gain 15 pounds? I hardly eat enough now!
I was so upset that I could not go back to sleep.
Two hours later, still miffed, I got up again and stormed into the kitchen to have a word prayer with my scale. I told it that there was no-(cuss words)-way I had gained 15 pounds. I just wasn’t having it.
Before stepping on it again, I warned, one more time, that it better show me the right (more cuss words) weight this time or I would break it in half and throw it in the (even more cuss words) trash (I’m very well versed in cuss words).
The scale shivered in fear and apologized profusely. It admitted it had gotten the previous reading wrong and instead of 265, it was really 246.5 – At 3 in the morning, I failed to see the 4 between the numbers 2 and 6 or see the decimal point after the six.
That’s better! Now, I had actually lost five more pounds instead of gaining 15. On a more positive note, the scale and I have resumed our relationship.
My son and I were getting ready to go hang some Christmas lights in town so, I went to get dressed while he waited.
I came out of the bedroom dressed and this is the conversation just before leaving.
Him: Mom, why are you wearing pants with a dress?
Me: They’re leggings, not pants.
Me: We’re going to hang lights on Front Street: would you rather I just wore a shirt instead of a dress that covered all my rolls, wrinkles, and pockets of cellulite?
Him (blink, blink): You look good, Mom. Let’s go
LOL – I guess that shut him up.
My husband and I had lunch at Olive's Tavern. Before leaving I used the ladies' room. I came out and walked all through the restaurant, past a table full of sheriff deputies, and out to the car.
We went to Wal-worsts afterwards to pick up his medicines and something for dinner. I got out of the car and started walking...
It felt drafty so I tugged at my dress and it felt fine. As I'm crossing the pedestrian crossing, a lady hollars out her window, "Ma'am, you need to pull your dress down in the back."
I felt on the other side (where I did not feel the draft) and my dress was tucked into my granny panties with half my ass hanging out. What a day!
I think my dogs sense there's something wrong today. They keep following me around everywhere I go as I wander from room to room.
My fat little beagle, Charlie, is bouncing next to me. He looks like a miniature Winnebago with a tail as he jumps and bounces up and down trying to make me feel better. When I sit down, Bianca, the blue healer, will lay her head on my lap as if to say "it will be all right."
My blood sugar is in the 80's and I know I have to eat, but I absolutely have no appetite. I do need to eat so I've tried a few things. I tried some ragoons, I fixed two of them and choked down half of one and gave the rest to the dogs.
I still have some (stove top popped) popcorn left from my hurricane snacks that I didn't eat. I ate a kernel and tossed the dogs a handful. They finished that and followed me back into the kitchen.
Cottage Cheese -- eww
Oatmeal -- eww
Left over baked chicken from dinner that I didn't finish -- nope
I tried a sugar-free wafer, but didn't want that either. I took one bite and gave the rest to the dogs. They're so cute...wait, they're following me around because I have food!
I recently offered to sign one of my books for a friend. She gladly accepted, but in doing so, she instructed me to not write anything off color.
“Why would I do that?” I asked feeling a little surprised at the footnote.
“I don’t know, just making sure,” she answered.
Shaking my head as I signed, I said, “Well, I wouldn’t do that. You never know when a child is going to pick it up and see it and I know you have two little ones at home.”
There’s a time for adult humor. Being around children or exposing them to adult humor is not the place or time. I thought about that all day long. It kind of hurt my feelings that she felt the need to tell me this. I thought she knew me better. I admit that I have a warped sense of humor, however, I know when to be "adult," and when not.
It reminded me of my daughter’s bridal shower. A friend of ours asked if she could do it at her house, for which I was grateful. When it came time to open gifts, the hostess took mine out of my daughter’s hands.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, noting her to put the gifts I had brought on her kitchen counter and away from the gifts everyone else had brought.
“She can open yours in private,” she said laughing. “I know you, and I don’t want her opening anything inappropriate in front of everyone.”
“If you know me, then you know I would not bring an ‘inappropriate gift’ to her bridal shower,” I insisted. “Give them back to her.”
The hostess was hesitant, but I think she could tell I was mad. “Okay,” she conceded, “but if there’s anything suggestive or sexual in here, I’m going to be really upset.”
The same thing happened at work when we threw a baby shower for one of our nurses. They all thought I was going to bring some skimpy negligee or a sex toy (to a baby shower!) One of the CNA’s brought a cake that was in the shape of a penis, but I was the one accused of being potentially inappropriate. Why?
Although, I do give my daughter gifts like negligees, thongs, things of that nature, I do not give them in front of people.
When I really think about it, it doesn’t just hurt my feelings, but it really offends me. I have more class than that. I have decided that these people who think they know me so well, apparently, do not really know me at all.