I judge you if...

I hate the phrase, "No shit, Sherlock."

I think the first time it was used, it was really clever. Maybe Sherlock Holmes had just come out. And people were all into it. And the first guy that said it got a huge laugh.

But now, only tools use that phrase. Every time I hear it, it's like I'm listening to someone say "expecially," "expresso," or "supposeably."

I hate that phrase.

Dear Metabolism,

I’m going to be honest with you. I thought things were going fine. I could eat what I wanted, within reason, and you would keep my body more or less acceptable looking. We needed each other. We were disappointed in one another when we had a lapse in communication amidst Chipotle or Tricia’s Raspberry Black Bean Dip. But we kept strong.


That is, until I roll over one morning to find you GONE. NOT THERE. ABSENT FROM MY LIFE. All that was left of you was a quickly-scratched goodbye notifying me of your escape, located conveniently on my ABS AND THIGHS. How are you going to just leave me helpless? I mean, what do you expect me to do without you? I have tried 100-calorie snacks. Yogurt as my lunch. For the love of all things holy and good, I HAVE TRIED WORKING OUT. But I just can’t replace you. I see you everywhere. Skinny girls at the rec. Skinny girls at work. I am pretty sure you have a hand in keeping every pound my mother eats off her body…

And yet, here I am, my empty life devoid of a metabolism with average adolescent rate. Growing by the minute. Stuffing my face with carrots instead of KitKats, and still failing.

Why can’t I quit you?

Please come back to me soon. The rec is a cold, dark place. I promise to swear off Chipotle. For a while….

lifelong side effects

Way back when I was in elementary school, we had this counselor. I'm a little fuzzy on the details but I think her main job was to give all of us a moral compass. Which is something kids need so, good for her.

Unfortunately, when I was in first grade, she came to our class to teach us a lesson on not judging a book by its cover. She read us the book Stellaluna. You probably remember it. It was about bats. And she read it to our class and asked, what do we learn from this story? Being the angelic student I was, I immediately rose my hand and said, "To be friends with everyone, no matter what they look like." The class went on and the counselor left. Later, I got called into her counseling dungeoun in the middle of the library...

I OF COURSE started hyperventillating. I felt like I was being sent to the principal's office. I got there and she told me that she felt like I was mocking her when I raised my hand about being friends with everyone no matter what they look like.

um... I'm a first-grader. I don't even know if I know what mocking means.

I tell her sorry (for what, exactly?) and go back to my classroom. And I vividly remember standing outside Ms. Hartwig's room for what seemed like years trying to stop crying.

Now, I wish I could go back in time and watch Little Mara raise her hand and vocalize her moral compass lesson. Did she say it sassy? Was she being a Little B? AND I STILL DO THAT TODAY. After conversations with people in authority, I sometimes agonize over the details and hope I didn't do something inadvertantly sassy.

Sometimes I wonder where my history of emotional breakdowns comes from. Was it when my violin teacher yelled at me because I moved those little pegs? Was it when I was dating a boy in college while I was in high school, a boy I hardly ever thought about until he dumped me? Was it at the first movie I ever cried at, Armageddon?


But I think, dear children, that it was at Stellaluna. I should go read that book again...