first day of the rest of my life

"wow, that missy. she really has her shit together. she just really seems like she's in control of any situation. i wish i could be more like her," SAID NO ONE, EVER.


so tonight as my belovèd spouse and i took a walk in pre-hurricane rain, i confided in him about how i feel like i might be addicted to eating food and need some kind of 12-step program in my life.

i can confide in him like that because he is kind and tender and not judgmental. well, not where other people are involved. he's actually pretty judgmental where other people are involved, but for some strange reason, i get a pass.

this is a wonderful freedom, to be able to tell someone your deepest, darkest, most vile secrets and know that they will still love you anyway.

he suggested that i start a blog. he said that maybe if i tell the entire free world (because like probably china and north korea can't read my blog i guess?) what i eat every day, then maybe i'll be less likely to let the munchies get the best of me.

also, the world just really needs another amateur writer who takes pictures of all her food. ok not so much with that part.

so here's to hoping that this blog will make me think twice before standing over the sink cramming slices of frozen phyllo dough into my face because of the way someone looked at me when they made what may or may not have been a slightly less than definitely not intentionally unpleasant comment to or near me that day.

yes, i know what you are thinking, and it absolutely is glamorous to be me.


oh wait. not what you were thinking?


"missy, it sounds like you are suffering from a debilitating eating disorder that stems from years of self loathing and insecurity" is what you are actually probably thinking.


...


oh pish tosh!

so i guess you may have noticed that this is basically going to be a cesspool of my most shameful and embarrassing thoughts. oooh am i a confessional poet now? i guess i would have to write a poem first.

wait, what if i claim that this whole thing up to now was a poem? it's just really ummmm, post-modern. yeah. you wouldn't understand. man.

is it ok that i almost sort of vaguely want the hurricane to make a tree fall on me?