And to think there was a time when I thought, “Who would ever use a video camera from their phone?”

One of the things that puts me in a very awkward state of being is when large people make fun of themselves for being fat.

I have no idea how to react to that. For instance, the following conversation:

“Look at those adorable chubby feet (referring to Button’s very square feet). S would love her feet. She thinks chubby things are cute. That’s why she likes me!”

Suddenly the record in my brain squeals to a halt and I have no idea what to say. Basically, it seems to boil down to two alternatives, equally displeasing.

Laughing with the joke feels like the equivalent of “Yeah, you are pretty fat, aren’t you?”

On the other hand, I could totally lie and say something absurd like “Oh don’t be silly, you’re not overweight at all!” But that would be really obvious, and in addition to feeling dishonest, that kind of insincerety is rarely appreciated anyway.

Look, I’m glad that some people are comfortable enough with their weight to take it lightly. I just don’t know what to do with that. And you never quite know if they’re REALLY joking, or just testing the water.

So what usually ends up happening is a short, awkward pause in the conversation, until I abruptly change the subject. Which, I fear, is equally as obvious and comes accross more as “Well, yeah, you’re fat but I wasn’t going to say anything…anyway…” which is not what I intend.

I don’t really notice when other people are overweight. It doesn’t make a difference in whether I see them in positive or negative light.

I can understand that there are a lot of them who are very sensitive about it, and that’s pretty easy to deal with by avoiding the subject.

But the other 10% who deal with it by joking…THAT I have yet to learn how to handle gracefully. Especially since the whole topic is so “taboo.” I’ll probably get hate mail for mentioning the word “fat” in this post.

When I was 9 & 10 I kept a journal. It had four parts: Feelings, Spy Info, Anything and Poetry.

Feelings was the journal section of it. Spy Info was for really important stuff like disciphering secret codes and recording invaluable details about the people around me. I had just read “Harriet the Spy” in school. Anything was…nothing. One page had the first draft of a love song on it (a LOVE song…I should mention here that I didn’t have my first “boyfriend” until my senior year of highschool - gah). And the Poetry section was pretty self explanatory.

Anyway, I’m really glad to have that old, beat-up spiral notebook now because reading through the journal entries remind s me of what a huge deal everything is when you’re a kid. Drama, Drama, Drama. It’s hard to be a kid. Particularly a girl, I think.

My best friend, C, spent last night with me and she’s still here. But we got in another argument. I think I have the right of it all.

It’s not fair the way she picks on me and throws around my [stuffed] animals just because I believe they’re real. I don’t think she’s my bestest friend anymore.

She’s also mean to my hampster just because I correct her by saying she’s a girl. Then C throws in an “it doesn’t matter,” which is a lie as far as I’m concerned.

This is why I like being alone better than having a friend over or going over to anyone’s house.

Unless it’s Kerri, I guess.

One of the things I really appreciate about adulthood is the lack of drama. I know there are still those out there who thrive on conflict, but in general it’s pretty easy to avoid them. I have surrounded myself with low-maintenance friends and people who appreciate me, and I really feel now that I have that “handle” on life that I never felt I had as a child. Maybe that’s just security. Confidence. The knowledge that you can’t please everybody and that doesn’t affect who you are. That life is so much BIGGER than the little issues people fight about.

Oh, I guess I should mention that though I rarely see C anymore, she and I are still good friends. We’ve both done a lot of growing up

They’ve found me.  Again.  What is it that suddenly makes all hell break loose on your blog one day and forces you to spend 6 hours every day moderating comments???

You wanna know what really pisses me off?  They’ve found a way to post spam comments on posts in which the comments ARE CLOSED.

HOW DO THEY DO THAT???  And why hasn’t the CIA swooped in and abducted them all to secret “re-education” camps?

Grrrrr… Makes me want to throw things.

Button had her first taste of real meat today.

She ate a gecko.

Evidently she’s been spending too much time with the dog. J stuck his finger in her mouth to see what she had been smacking on (she has a habit of finding strands of carpet and shoving them in her mouth). He pulled out the slimey, mashed up remains of a very dead lizard.

Excuse me while I vomit.