|what I'm likely missing right now|
Last night I wrote a lengthy - entirely too lengthy - post about an unpleasant part of my childhood. I apologize for the length and understand that it's too long and no one wants to read it because it's so long. It's wrong to solicit compliments, which is how that post is likely to be viewed, anyway. I try not to solicit compliments in general, but if no one ever says anything about a person's appearance except for the wack job relatives who look for new and unique ways to criticize the way I look, what is a person supposed to believe about his or her appearance? My aunt would say it's all about being satisfied with oneself and never mind what anyone else thinks, but if no one else thinks you're nice-looking, you're not.
I asked if it was too personal to post. One very nice person told me she left a comment and to tell her if I didn't get it. I told her. Her reply eventually appeared.. Another person told me it was too long for a blog. I could have told her that. what I had wanted to know was if I was putting more personal information out there than was appropriate. I never got an actual answer to that. She did, however, give me her cell phone number in case I wanted to talk, which was kind. I may call her tomorrow. Becca responded to the post.
It doesn't help that I weight 89 pounds and have braces on my teeth. My weight should go up eventually, but I've been fighting a nasty case of colitis, that has made keeping weight on virtually impossible. I've lost four pounds even with IV fluids when I was at my worst.
My dad went on a rant last night about how damn lucky I am that I'm medically insured through my parents because of the cost of all my medical treatments. I didn't realize that's another thing for which I'm supposed to be eternally grateful. I need to keep a list posted in my bedroom, because there are too many for me to remember off the top of my head. I asked him if it would make him happier if I became a Christian Scientist or member of one of those Churches of the Firstborn that do not seek medical treatment. He just got even madder. Then I asked him if Matthew had pledged his undying gratitude for insurance paying for the CT scan last week when he thought he might have appendicitis and he really just was constipated. My dad started to yell at me more, but then laughed and admitted that Matthew's complaint was quite lame. Matthew's had close to the same dollar amount in medical bills that I've had (not counting the extended stay in the loony bin; the school district's insurance carrier paid for that one, and it was costly) even though there's never been anything actually wrong with him. He's had a few minor sports injuries, but other than that, he's just a complete hypochondriac. And it's only going to get worse, because he's going to medical school. He learn about a host of new illnesses to imagine he has. When he first meets his cadaver, he'll try to find out what he or she died of, and that will be the first new illness he develops. Mark my words.
I'm feeling major animosity toward a particular extended relative. For one thing, we had a bet that the first of us to reach 100 pounds would pay the other 100 bucks. It was looking pretty good for me for awhile, as I'm still growing, but then she got pregnant. I should have taken that as my clue and had major mofo breast implants or something that would have given me added weight before she started gaining, but I didn't; I played fairly. I'm not saying she should not have gotten pregnant; I'm just saying that ten to one it wouldn't have counted in my favor if I had gotten pregnant and reached 100 pounds, so why should she win by virtue of a pregnancy? We argued, but I decided to give in. I sent the money in an envelope with my brother when he took some garden produce to her house last week right after his illness ended. I received no acknowledgment, incidentally. I probably did the right thing by paying up, as I don't wish to be known as a welcher, but I'll never feel quite the same about either this relative or about her husband.
There's a birthday party in the extended family today. I was invited. My pregnant aunt is staying inside and watching the action through a window. Nevertheless, even though ulcerative colitis is not contagious, and even though pregnant aunt would be inside, sitting on a recliner, while I would be outside, sitting on some sort of folding chair or lounge chair, it was decided that my immunity might be compromised, and I might pick up a virus that might possibly crawl through the window and infect my pregnant aunt. As much as I'd love to give my pregnant aunt the blame, it doesn't sound like her logic. I suspect credit for the uninvitation belongs either to her husband or her father-in-law. which ever one it was, I don't like him anymore. It's not so much that I was dying to attend a kiddie birthday party. It's just the humiliation of being uninvited that makes me sad. My parents are there now, undoubtedly having a great time.
I'm having internal bleeding, and my parents aren't answering their cell phones. I dare not drive over to the party to talk to them lest I affect the pregnant person or anyone else with some unknown virus, so I'm calling my gastroenterologist's emergency weekend number. I certainly hope it doesn't cause my parents' insurance to be billed.
Some days, week, months, years, or lifetimes suck.