Hungry

Due to an ongoing search for new birth control that doesn't make me break out OR leave me bleeding 20 days of the month, my body is a little out of wack.

I just finished the 10th (yes, TENTH) day of Aunt Flo's visit. That is over, but apparently PMS 2 weeks ago kicked my metabolism into a different drive. Is it faster or slower? Only the scale will tell.

Now I am either ravenously hungry or feel completely full. All the time. I eat a meal of any portion or level of healthfulness and feel stuffed. The full and satisfied feeling lasts for 2-3 hours, which means that I am aware of FEELING FULL for 2-3 hours.

And then the hunger strikes. My stomach actually growls. Am I in the 7th grade again? When did my stomach last growl loud enough for other people to hear?

I physically feel hungry at least 6 hours of the day. This is because I refuse to feed a starved feeling body that told me I was full only 10 minutes ago. I also refuse to eat around the clock...unless there is a pity party involved.

Here is my nugget of wisdom from a jacked up body: Physical hunger, the feeling of an empty and growling stomach, is easier for me to ignore than emotional hunger. Anyone who has an unhealthy relationship with food knows the difference.

Is my stomach growling? Oh well. I don't need a cup of ice cream. The pain will go away.

Am I feeling lonely and depressed about something important in my life? That damned cup of ice cream won't shut up until I eat it. I MUST eat it, for it will replace the lack of comfort and love in my life.

Sad, but true. I can ignore my body, but not my emotions. Maybe that will change as I get closer to 40...that gives me 7 1/2 more years to find out.

grow some lady parts

This is my catch phrase. I taught it to teenagers a few years ago because they kept yelling "grow some balls!" during ultimate frisbee games.

Balls? That doesn't make sense. Balls are the most sensitive, vulnerable, and wimpy part of the human anatomy. If you hit a man in the balls, he is down. If you injure a man's balls, he may lose one. You even have to watch how you TOUCH a man's balls...which is not exactly a beloved national past time (at least for me).

The vagina, on the other hand, goes through a lot of tough shit. It sees blood on a regular basis. It adapts to whatever is thrown at it. It can be ripped apart while a HUMAN passes through it and still heal to see another day. Women are forced to accept pain on a regular basis because our lady parts are rearranging themselves (also known as menstruation).

Is someone being weak? Tell them to grow some lady parts. Balls will only give them another weakness.

Tonight I wanted to tell a college student to grow some lady parts. "My parents don't understand me." Waaaaa. "I don't know where home is anymore." booohooo. "My friends don't call often enough or text back when I want them." poor thing.

These are valid life experiences and are especially jarring during college when you seem to live in transition. I know this in my head because I am a well-trained minister. Emotionally, though, I just want to tell this girl to start growing some lady parts. Apparently, I am a cold hearted bitch in my 30's. Oh well.

I love this place! Oh, now I hate myself...or do I?

Today I went to a different grocery store that is 10 minutes closer to the big city. I've heard that it is a step above the local Food Lion but still smaller than the super-fancy yuppy stores that I used in Atlanta.

Hello Lowe's Food! I love you! I walked in and was reminded of all the grocery luxaries you give up living in a small town. Boar's Head deli meats? Check. Fancy bakery with pretty cakes and an entire display made just for muffins? Check. Great produce and plenty of good looking single men shopping on a Saturday afternoon? Double check!

I was immediately aware of my clothing choice when every high school bag boy looked at my chest and then smiled wide friendly smiles at me. Ego boost? Check! I love this place!


The woman at the deli counter had a different take on my cleavage showing maxi dress, loose crazy hair, and lack of make-up. When I got to the counter to order, she smiled really big and said, "Now, is this your husband?"

I turn around to glance at who she was referring to...a big, beer-bellied, white haired biker dude complete with leather vest and bandana on his head.

"Um, no. (friendly smile to hide my shock) I don't know him."

Whaaaat? Should I hate myself? Does messy hair and no make-up make me look like a biker chick? Do I look that old?

Apparently, I've lived in a farming town long enough that I've let myself go. I can no longer walk into the somewhat fancy grocery store and fit in. I belong with the biker dude.

A small part of me thinks it is kind of bad ass to be mistaken for a biker wife. The minister who is married to the bearded biker(who was actually married per the ring on his hand and well groomed under the leather vest). That is a fun thought.

Nah. That small part of me does not overshadow the shame of being the trashy girl in the still not-that-fancy store close to the big city. It is time to start exercising and putting on make-up again.