Who really wants to read about an overweight, married mom in her almost mid thirties who eats every time she feels something? I read some fantastic blogs written by incredible writers who have more creativity in their left pinky than I have in my entire body. How can I possibly compare to any of them and I sure don't expect to have their popularity.
I love it when I read a sentence, paragraph, or whole entry and relate to it so intently I wonder if I was being spied on. If someone reads something here and can relate to what I'm saying and maybe it helps them figure something out, not eat a donut, or save the world, my purpose will be served.
Well, I have two purposes. My other is to taste the pain instead of stuffing it with food. Taste the Pain is one of the best songs on one of the best albums; Mothers Milk by the Chili Peppers. Every time I feel something I stuff it, when I'm not in a fog emotions that are normal for so many people to handle seem so intensified. Little situations come up that I should be able to handle with as much stress as it takes to tie a shoelace, amount to the stress you feel instead when you find out your inlaws have shown up 24 hours early, your house is a mess, and you haven't gone to the grocery store yet.
Walk away, taste the pain.
Come again some other day.
Aren't you glad we weren't afraid?
Funny how the price gets paid.
But, if I'm going to be honest with myself, the first step would be admitting if someone ever actually does read this, please comment, it makes me feel warm and squishy inside. I promise I won't eat in celebration.
xoxo
Betty
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