i’m looking for a good pair of spanx. sadly, though. i’ve tried ‘em. i’ve tried theÂ power pantiesÂ and i even attemptedÂ the midthigh body shaper which isÂ a glorifiedÂ body stocking that you CLIP onto your bra. but, because i’m a midget, they NEVER fit right and never sucked in a damn thing. all they did was add extra material. and these strange loops? i never could figure out what to do with those loops. what do you have to say about that, Oprah?
but i’m almost embarrassed to tell you what i’ve eaten since Friday (and the two day Rosh Hashanah eating fest doesn’t even start until tonight. god help me) about 46 iced bakery cookies, a good half a lemon meringue pie, about 3 dozen wings, chinese food – twice.
“i see you over there, Ali.”
“what did you say, Mom?”
“i see you standing over there at the cookie jar!”
and that was the straw. the one that broke the emotional eater’s ass.
yes, yes, this isn’t new. Ali = emotional eater. and when Mom-of-Ali descends, it’s all food, all the time. it’s how i cope with her passive aggression. it’s how i cope when she puts me down. it’s how i cope when she behaves like a two-year-old. it’s how i cope with her complete disregard of my parenting style and rules. it’s how i cope when she spends days with me and leaves tens of empty coffee mugs wherever she damn well pleases.
the husband wasn’t home all weekend, so i was just me, the kids, and my parents. on saturday morning, by 6:30, all three monsters were climbing all over my head, itching to get downstairs for breakfast. my mom mosied on up at 9:30 and complained for 40 minutes about how she didn’t sleep a wink that night. by 1:00, she’d had enough. announced that she was “VERY SICK” and needed to sleep. and then took a two hour nap.
when i made a comment about how my brother is very much the baby of our family and i said that i wasÂ envious that he’s been living in New York City for over a year since he finished college finding himself because that never would have flown for me. she never would have allowed it. (Michael, i’m not begrudging you. i’m jealous of you. there’s a difference. milk it for all it’s worth, i say!) then she proceeded to announce, in front of our friends, “THAT HOW WOULD YOU KNOW IF IT WOULD NEVER FLY? WE WERE ALL PREPARED TO SEND YOU TO AN IVY LEAGUE UNIVERSITY BUT INSTEAD YOU GOT MARRIED WHEN YOU WERE JUST A BABY AND THEN CAME HERE TO THIS INSTITUTE OF HIGHER LEARNING, THIS THINKTANK, YORK UNIVERSITY!!” that’s when she hit below the belt. not cool, mom. (i have a fucking master’s degree)
when i tried to tell her all the things that are happening for me. i have something in the works, folks. something with McDonalds. i don’t think i can tell you about it yet, but it’s going to be BIG. i tried to tell her about the interview i’m going to be doing with Abby Cadabby (that may even be a TV interview). i tried to tell her about the film festival, and how my interview with my boyfriend Christopher Bolton has led to all sorts of things…she didn’t care at all. which was to say that my mother, the wait-to-talker, just waited until i was done talking and went on to tell me about the man who committed suicide in her nursing home. (nice)
would it fucking kill her to be proud of me? ONCE? would it fucking kill her to help me? ONCE? would it fucking kill her to pick her after herself….COFFEE CUPS???? ONCE?
you’re starting to see it now, eh? why i’m eating so much? and why i need the damn SPANX? or possibly just a new wardrobe in the next size up…because i certainly deserve some retail therapy right about now…