a big and tasty christmas

Okay. This is getting scary, friends. Amidst the hustle and bustle of this jolly ho-ho of a holiday, I found myself center stage the other day, in Mickey D.'s, getting a My Little Pony chotske for the girls and the next thing I know, Mama's ordering a number 5. Super-sized, for God's sake. Cloaked in shame at the sadness within and particularly the booming voice that ordered the trans-ass blowout..I turned to look at my husband, hoping for some sort of guidance, compassion...perhaps an explanation of it all, who knows? Nada. The only gift I got from the guy was a mortified stare and a neon thought bubble along the lines of "Great. In another couple of days, I'm gonna be married to the Stay-Puft Marshmallow giant from Ghostbusters". He took a couple of small steps away from me, and if I am not mistaken..I think I saw him trying to finger his wedding ring off in his left pocket.

Oh, my. Mama has been on a roll lately. Yep. A big, extra-buttered Parker House one, with a glob of honey on the side. What is happening, you may ask? Hell if I know. My morning runs are non-existent, my tofu has fallen by the wayside and my jaws have been gnawing like a rabid rodent on every Christmas cookie I can find. Perhaps it's that holiday depression I've always read about, or those nasty old serial killer hormones of mine..or maybe I'm just trying to fill the empty, proverbial hole deep down inside. Well, unfortunately, after making my list and checking it twice, it isn't any of the above. No excuses. Just post traumatic laziness, I guess. Isn't it funny at how challenging it is to simply accept the happiness and fortune we have in our lives and not find a way to screw it up? I mean, its right there. We deserve it. We earned it. But it seems we always find some way to talk ourselves out of it or nibble around it, I should say. That ole self worth kind of thing, maybe..stresses of the modern world..focusing on what we don't have..feeding into (in my case on) the commercialism of the season instead of the stuff that really counts. Well, this mama needs to take stock in all that this wonderfully red-ribboned holiday has to offer, keep it simple stupid, and get right on back to what Ellen DeGenerous calls, the "loving place". And that goes for my nasal folds and turkey neck, too. Oh, I'll snap out of it and find my way over this mystical gorge. I always do. Hope it happens soon though, before I take Manhattan....and swallow it.