I began to read my book French Women Don’t Get Fat and made the leek recipe at the beginning as a sort of cleansing/get refocussed day. At night I was still dying to go into the kitchen and eat more, more, more, but somehow I didn’t. So, one day down. I’m relatively hopeful that I can pull it off again today.
Don’t worry, I’m not on a “diet” per se. It’s just a cleaning out, a kickstart for a day or two. I don’t eat badly until after 7 at night, but then I eat very badly. My counselor suggested I plan a small protein rich meal at about that time and I think that’s an excellent idea. So from now on, when I wander in there I’ll have a plan and when I’m done with it, I won’t eat any more the rest of the night.
So I’ll have some of my super delicious Lebanese yogurt with lavender honey on top. Or some cheese with vegetable crudités. I’ll plan ahead for what my after dinner treat will be.
I’ve spoken a bit about my mother here and feel it doesn’t reflect well on me to complain about her incessantly since she gives me a roof over my head, but last night there was an incident that has made dad and I feel like we’re walking on eggshells today. It’s so uncomfortable! It’s times like this when I really cannot wait to have my own home again.
But worse than making me feel uncomfortable is that I hate what she is doing to my dad. She truly behaves like a child at seventy fucking eight years old! And even though I had nothing to do with the incident, the fight they had, it was about me so I feel weirdly guilty.
I’ve been telling them both for weeks that not only have I stopped losing weight, but am starting to gain weight. Yesterday I made a point to tell them I was going to make the leek soup in an attempt to kickstart myself into better eating. We spoke about how eating late at night is my downfall.
My mom announced a little later that she was going to go to Dairy Queen for Blizzards for her and dad and asked me if I wanted the small Oreo one. I thought that was an odd way to put it, since I never have them, so why would I have a favorite. At any rate I said, “No thanks, I don’t want one.”
The irony here is that she is constantly getting on my dad about his love of sweets and yet when she decides she wants a Blizzard she pushes it on him too. So, he can’t have any sweets except when she craves them, I guess.
I’m used to my mom being oblivious and so is my dad. Both of us bite our tongues a thousand times a day because she’s a notorious martyr when she feels slighted.
My mom is getting ready to go buy their treats and she’s walking towards my room, “___, do you want the small Blizzard?” And before I can tell her no (again) dad says to her, “No. Don’t offer her one.”
And mom says, “What?” In her very loud, oblivious voice.
He says, “She’s been telling us for days she’s gaining weight. She needs our support. Don’t ask her if she wants one — she already said she didn’t want one.”
My mom said, “She’s a grown woman, she can tell me if she doesn’t want one.”
Dad: “She already did.”
And that was it, folks. She got her shoes on, went to DQ and came home with (I guess) one Blizzard for my dad cuz she’s busy pouting now, and she didn’t speak to him for the rest of the night.
And then she went to bed early.
And today she’s barely speaking to him.
She’s so oversensitive I can hardly believe it. It makes me feel ashamed.
But it’s not just that; it’s the fact that my dad has COPD and his days are numbered. And I can’t fathom not speaking to your loved one when every moment of every day is precious. I just can’t.
I want so much to sit her down and tell her that it’s time to let some things go; that she may regret her actions later, but you know what she’d say, and I swear she would, “Oh now you’re against me too, huh?”
She wouldn’t listen, she wouldn’t be open, she wouldn’t even consider behaving a little better. At 78 she is as emotionally immature as she was at 14 and I find it disgusting. On days like this I want to be out of here so bad I can taste it.
My dad and I agree in private that mom is truly the most unhappy person we have ever known. The only upside is that she would deny it, so in her own weird way is oblivious about her own misery.
On Thursday I applied for a job I’m very qualified for. If I don’t even get an interview I’m really going to feel age discrimination is a factor. It’s such a shame. For a time while I was carefully writing my cover letter I could imagine having a nice work environment to go to, new friends there, a steady paycheck and then taking the settlement money and using it for retirement, or to buy my own house in a year or two when my credit is better.
Such a lovely fantasy.
But not if no one hires me.
It’s such a shame. I have energy. I have a very good work ethic. I’m free to travel with no baggage at all, and yet I don’t get interviews. I look fine, dress fine, speak fine, but I can’t get an interview.
I would like my own business. I’ve wanted one my whole life, but I have no experience at it and feel that it’s quite a risky thing to do with my settlement money. When I think of having a decent job and saving that money, I feel comfortable and safe.
During my eight year marriage I stopped doing what is comfortable and safe because I thought you needed to take risks and be uncomfortable to get that lucky break. All I did was lose every penny I had in the process.
It’s pretty terrible of my husband to expect us all to be brave and risk-takey when it’s not his fucking money.
He knows nothing about earning or saving money and he made me feel I was a square for wanting to be cautious.
I spoke to his daughters on FaceTime yesterday, they are in London. For the first time the older one said to me, “Daddy is weird. He’s really weird.” I said, “I worry about him.” And that was it, we usually ignore the topic of daddy. But I feel they’ve given up the idea of the American dream because daddy can’t stop moving in order to put down some roots. He’s unhappy everywhere he goes.
And now talking about Miami. That really would be starting over since he does not know a soul there. My heart breaks for him; thinking of him doing his wheeling dealing thing trying to impress people. I know he has depth and I know he’s a poet inside. It’s a shame that he primarily shows his obnoxious and flashy side. Here I go feeling sorry for him again. I need to stop that. For all I know he’s got seven lovers who have investment money willing to settle in Miami with him. I need to stop feeling sorry for him.
I’m not nuts about swimming on Saturday, but I missed two days of swimming this week so I must. Usually it works out okay, it’s just a different atmosphere. I can’t get there until 11:15 because other groups are using too many of the lanes until then. After that I think I’ll go downtown to the Saturday Market. Yes, I could run into my ex, but the chances are small. I need to stay out of the house for a bit today. And I’ve got several good books to take with.
I did email my husband yesterday and just wrote, “Just checking in. No news this week?” And after a while he responded, “No news.” So hopefully that’ll be that until next week. I need to stop thinking about him and worrying about him. He made his decision and there’s no going back.
I need to think about my own life now.