I want a doughnut. I could even have one if I wanted - someone left a few in the drink cooler in the kitchen, and they've been there for three days, which means they're probably public domain. But I'm trying to be good. And if I'm going to go off the wagon, so to speak, it's not going to be for a three-day-old cold doughnut anyway. I owe that much to myself, at least. If I'm going to go off my diet and get fatter, it might as well be for a fresh doughnut, don't you think?
I could have sworn, this morning driving to work, that I smelled bacon, and I wanted that, too. ::sigh:: I'm glad it's Friday. There's something about being bored at work that makes me want to eat. Heck, there's something about being bored anywhere that makes me want to eat. But I just got a shipment from Quality Paperbacks yesterday, so I probably won't be bored this weekend.
Not that I was going to be bored anyway. The current plan is for my parents to meet us tomorrow so my mom can see the house, and then we're all going to go to the circus. I can't wait - I haven't been to the circus since I was, oh, ten, maybe? I'm a little worried that I'm remembering it different than it actually was, but maybe not. I do remember thinking that they had way too many musical numbers and that I wished they would just get on with the tricks. But maybe as an adult (or at least, a grown-up) I'll be able to appreciate the dancing or whatnot more. When I was a kid, all I wanted to see were clowns and acrobats. We sometimes snuck in big bags of home-made popcorn to munch on, and we invariably came home with cheaply-made (as opposed to cheaply-bought) clown makeup kits - the same kind of thing you can get around Hallowe'en for three or four bucks. It occurs to me that for the first time ever, I'll be at the circus and in control of my own money. (Or at least, enough money to matter. I got thirty-five cents a week when I was ten, and that only if I remembered to ask for it.) I wonder if I'll buy more junk because I can, or less because I'll actually be able to comprehend how overpriced it is?
Doesn't matter; I'm sure I'll have a blast anyway. This morning, Matt and I heard a spot on the radio telling families to bring their kids an hour early for special kid's time - meet the clowns, look at the animals, learn to juggle, that kind of thing. We both looked at each other with this sort of "I wish I could do that" thought shining behind our eyes.
Don't you think people forget what it's like to be a kid? I'm sure I have. Or rather, as people get older, they realize just how trivial kid's concerns are. Every now and then I'll hear someone wish that they could be a child again. Not me. Or rather - I'd love to be a child again, but only if I could keep all of the knowledge and perspective I've gained as an adult. Then, it wouldn't matter if the other kids didn't like me, because I'd know how little it mattered. I'd know how much to appreciate people and places that I didn't know I'd never see again. I'd know the secret to making friends with the other kids, and I'd know to go ahead and take some of the risks I always avoided. I'd actually notice occasionally when guys were flirting with me, and when people who claimed to be my friends were talking about me behind my back. I'd know better than to stay with that guy who was so bad for my self-esteem, and I'd go ahead and go out with the guy who just wanted to have a fun time even though I knew nothing long-term could ever come out of it. (Okay, I'm getting into college here, and you'd think I'd have known better by then, and I'd better shut up because some of these people probably look at this website every now and then.)
But to go back to being a child, truly? Never. Not in a million years. I only got happier as I got older. I was a shy kid, a bit of a nerd, and something of a pariah in elementary school. When I moved from private to public school, a lot of that changed, but I was still too shy for my own good. I never had good comebacks in junior high school, when a quick wit is the only survival mechanism. Things picked up in high school, when I'd acquired a group of friends who I really knew were my friends. College was even better, though there were several things I wish I'd done differently. Grad school wasn't much fun, but it was great when I finally came home. But right now is probably one of the best times of my life. I'm married to a fantastic man; I am wonderfully blessed with friends; I'm on good terms with my entire family - and that includes my in-laws; and I have a well-paying job.
When I think of all of the wonderful things in my life, it seems very petty to actually be so concerned with my appearance. But I guess I want people to see Matt and I together and think, Don't they look like a wonderful couple? Look how pretty she is when she laughs. I'm convinced that what they're really thinking is, Look how fat she is! I wonder what he sees in her? Maybe she got fat after they got married. Isn't it a shame when that happens? A girl gets herself a good man and stops taking care of herself. It's good of him to stay with her. And of course, what other people think really doesn't matter in the slightest... But then, it does. I don't know why, but it does.
So that's why, in spite of being happy with my life and content with myself, I'm not going to have a damn doughnut.
No comments:
Post a Comment