First I would like to thank my kids for downloading the virus that slows/freezes my internet making every click of the mouse take 30 seconds to 30 minutes. Having this immense frustrating work immobilizing issue really helps me understand why I turned to food in the first place. Usually under this amount of stress I would run to the cupboard and eat granola bars or cookies, or both and then devour the entire contents of the snack jar and return calm and ready to solve the problem. Now on the juice fast, stress like the virus has turned me into a snarling nasty witch. As a sat and watched my internet become unresponsive for the 18th time I started to consider typing on the keyboard with a hammer.
Needless to say I was acting like Eliza Doolittle before she met Professor Higgins and even before she had her little publicized exorcism. Too bad that it was the night of my brother-in-laws Jack and Jill Wedding shower. I honestly belonged locked in the basement and definitely not dressed up in public. Of course I wait until 1 hour before the even to wrap the present, make juice, leaving me about 4 minutes to change my clothes and put on make-up. I drive us there, us being, Dave, me and the kids. Yes the kids we were told that this was a casual family get together what could go wrong?
For starters we walk in an hour late, and if you don’t know me being late makes me insane. I would rather walk down Main Street in a bikini than arrive anywhere an hour late, not to mention being late to an important event like this. Secondly, the juice I made was disgusting and drinking it made me gag. Thirdly, the food looked great, and I had to go the buffet with the kids and pile their plates with chicken parmesan, meatballs, rolls, and ziti (that they didn’t eat). Don’t worry I had a nice sample of bright red sauce on the cuff of my brand new white blouse.
Then there was dancing, I obviously promised Alice that I would dance exclusively with her, let her lead, which meant holding both her hands the entire time, not complaining about her spinning me around till I barfed up green stuff, dropped to her knees, diving on to me knocking me down to the floor in some swing move that I has never been invented, scream and cry if I dance to a song that she doesn’t approve, or spontaneously let me go and start running around the dance floor like she is on fire and of course yelling at me as I try to escape back to the table. Is it me? Or does my daughter sound like of those controlling obsessive men those magazines articles warn us about? Needless to say after a night of what I had pictured as being happy fun mother daughter dancing, I was a battered, exhausted, and trying not to cry. The only keeping me from crying was being distracted by the huge cake five feet from my seat. I actually sat there weighing the pros and cons of picking up the whole cake and devouring it with my hands while hiding in a stall in the ladies room.
I decided that I would go with plan B. Be a complete evil witch to my children until they were both screaming & crying simultaneously. Then I was especially nasty to my husband when he tried to help. I honestly felt like throwing myself on the ground providing a tantrum that would give Alice a run for her money. I hate feeling negative emotions! I am used to being the smiling funny fat lady who stuffs her emotions down her throat with lots of cake and red wine.
I left that party feeling naked and raw. But I did it. I survived. Dave and I also learned the hard way that the kids will not be going to the wedding.