It's Thursday, which normally means I'm meant to put on a big grin and blather on to the three people who might even be out there reading this tripe about all the wonderful glory that is being a chubby 42 year-old single mom. Only today it's not fucking wonderful or glorious. It's just not. Today the life of a chubby 42-year-old single mom is sucking like a giant gaping chest wound.
I'm well aware that this state comes and goes. That I'm volatile. That things change. That this too shall pass. And right now I want my carport free from BB2's broken down car so I can use it. I want all the money I've wasted on it back. And I want him to have a car, and a job, and a life that work for him. No one helped with BB2's car and now it's totally hooped from him and I trying to figure it out. And it sucks. He had to quit his job because he needs his car for the job. It sucks.
And I can't fix it. I can do lots and lot of things. I'm super awesome at making a difference for other people. But not this. And not him. And when he needed me, I couldn't do anything. And it just really sucks.
Yes, there is more to life. I had an amazing once-in-a-lifetime weekend in Vancouver and got to see some Olympians get their medals. And I participated in the amazing street party and nationally galvanizing moment of Vancouver 2010's closing Olympic weekend. I worked on my novel, finally, and I walked to work swathed in the scent of cherries and springtime. And I wore my skinny jeans. So yes, life is not all bad. But sometimes, the sucky part really sucks.
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