Big Girls Don't Cry

A week ago, my life could've best been described by Donna Fargo, circa 1972.  If you get that reference, by the way, you will seriously be worthy of my undying respect and admiration.  I imagine there will be a lot of competition for that particular prize, so comment early and comment often.

Have you seen the Dog Diary vs. Cat Diary?  I was the dog.  Every part of the day was my favorite thing.  It was a good - albeit brief - time to be me.  I even had a post planned out in my head, but I was so busy being happy that I never got around to writing it.

That was then, this is now.

The damnedest thing is - all of the events of the day that I had listed in my mind - the things that were making me so happy - still occur.  Tom still hits the snooze button so that he can hold me for seven more minutes.  Or twelve.  Or twenty...  I still watch the sun rise and get alone time in the car with each of my girls (not for very much longer, but still...).  I still go to the gym and work out with my trainer.  I still come home and eat my breakfast and catch up on Facebook.  I still go to a job that I love.  I still take my sister home - more one-on-one car time.  Tom still makes delicious dinners and has them on the table when I walk in the door.  I am still left with just enough time to watch something on Netflix and knit a few rows before it's time to go to bed.

Those things made me pretty happy.  Pretty content.  Pretty damned pleased that I was given the life I have.  Simple.  Good.

"But Tammy," you must be thinking, "If none of that has changed - and all of that makes you happy - then why have you become so damned pissy all of a sudden?"

Your perplexed response is completely understandable.

The answer is just as simple as the simple bliss I'd been experiencing moments ago.  A lifetime ago.  I forget which.

I was reminded that fat people don't deserve to be happy.  They deserve to be punished and deprived and rejected.  By the way - if you're reading this - and you're a fat person - I DON'T BELIEVE THIS! - but the world chose this week - this holiday weekend - to remind me that it does.

And it's so damn hard to fight the world.

So I hope you enjoyed your weekend.  I hope you did things that made you happy.  I hope you barbecued and drank too many beers.  I hope you laughed with your friends.  I hope you were happy.

I wasn't.

I pretty much hermitted up in the house and avoided the mean-spirited world.

I cried a lot.

It took a long time to get to happy and I'll find my way back.  But it won't be today.