Just Another Me, Me, Me! Post. I Probably Am A Narcissist

I got that done yesterday and for whatever reason, it gives me a huge sense of accomplishment. So much of what I do doesn't seem to make much difference at all which is basically how "woman's work" works. It is the constant running on the hamster wheel of doing one little thing after another that keeps it all moving. But once in awhile, a chore gets done that is noticeable. And with that comes a certain satisfaction. 

I have not felt much satisfaction today. I have been anxious and have spent the day catastrophizing and beating myself up. It started when I woke up to find no Mr. Moon in the house. Then I remembered that he had to be at Tom's early to meet with a plumber but in the seconds before I remembered that, I absolutely thought, Well, he's finally done it. He's gotten so sick of me and my craziness that he's left.
Seriously. 
And it's gone from there. 
I went to the post office and my two dresses had arrived. Hurray! Brought them home, thought one of them was fine, while the other one is too large and, in fact, makes me look like a plump little child wearing her mother's silk nightgown. Plus, the style of it does not suit me.
Not the look I was going for there. 
Later on when I decided to wear the dress that did work to go do my shopping in I realized that with a bra on it does not fit me very well and in fact, is a little snug and instead of looking like a plump child in it, I merely look like the fat old lady I am. 
Nothing really looks good on me and the shame I hold due to being overweight causes me such great mental anguish which I know is ridiculous but here we are. I compare myself to everyone I see in public who is anywhere near my age. This is not a healthy thing to do if one is seven years old, seventeen years old, or seventy years old. But I can remember comparing the size of my thighs when I was sitting on the edge of a pool at the age of seven or eight with the other girls' thigh thickness. And of course I did it at seventeen. Did I look like Twiggy? Did I look like Joni Mitchell? Did I look like Joanna C. who was in all my classes? 
No. I did not. I did not compare favorably to any of them when it came to thinness. Did I then begin to count every calorie I put into my mouth including those from a piece of gum?
Yes. Yes I did. And did I beat myself up if I exceeded eight hundred calories a day? Oh, you know I did. 

I have told these stories before. 

Always the same sad song. 
So that happened wherein I was reminded that not only am I a bigger woman than I want to be, I am also mentally unhealthy for my lifelong obsession with my size. 

Lily called and asked me if this summer I could perhaps do something with her children on Thursdays and/or Fridays because both she and Lauren are at work and although Owen is surely old enough to babysit, it's probably pretty boring for the kids, just being at home, and that's a lot on Owen. Of course I will! But today I just did not have it in me and that made me feel incredibly guilty. I will gladly take those kiddos to the river or to lunch or bring them here to play or...whatever. But today wasn't the day and saying "no" to anything my children ask of me (and they don't ask much) is almost impossible and it makes me feel so selfish and so inadequate as a mother, as a grandmother. 
So there was that, too. 

I did stay busy all day long. I picked another gallon of beans or something close to that and I washed the sheets and did other laundry and I went to Costco and Publix and got what we needed, came home, unloaded everything, put everything away, made up the bed with the clean sheets, folded and put away the rest of the laundry. I ate my healthy lunch of a bowl of black bean soup and then felt guilty in Publix because I bought two different cuts of pork. I compared myself to other women. I got called "m'am" by an old man and I know he was an old man because he was wearing a shirt that said, "Don't Underestimate An Old Man." 

Ah well. This was just one of those days. And even as I obsess over all of these things, I know how lucky I am to be relatively healthy, to have the energy to do what I do, to have the husband that I have who has not left me due to my craziness and who looks so handsome in his new glasses. And let us not forget that I don't even have to think about what my groceries cost. The fact that the machine at Public that takes your debit card was being ornery was more of an irritation than what my can of stewed tomatoes cost is a telling detail. 

Glen got the yard mowed this afternoon AFTER he'd helped get Tom's Tiny Home hooked up to water and the septic tank and tied it down. He does not complain, he does not whine. He appears to love me as I am which is almost impossible for me to believe. 

It is Friday. The martini glasses are in the freezer. We have crab legs thawing for our supper. (CRAB LEGS!) And there are those clean sheets on the bed. 

The Weatherfords made it safely to Black Mountain and all is well. I know they are glad to be there. Jessie said it was cool enough last night to sleep under a duck and a fuzzy blanket. She took a walk this morning down to their own little piece of land where they're going to move their RV. 

One day they'll build a house there. They've already done a lot of work getting the site ready. 

I think tomorrow I'll do some garden weeding and perhaps can some more beans. Billy and I were texting today and I told him I was picking beans and that I have already put up 24 pints of them. 
He responded, "Jeebus. You can stop whenever you like, Mary. This isn't Little House on the Prairie." 
I texted back, "But I'm a peasant and I love growing and canning my own food."
And dear Billy said, "And I love whatever makes you happy so please continue."

To which I said, "Stop making me cry."

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon