Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Remembering over oatmeal...

I'm having one of those days. Everything is bothering me. Yesterday morning one of my attendants injured her arm when the door frame almost fell on her. Luckily, it didn't, but it was quite a close call. The manager called me and wanted to know details. Worker's Compensation is now involved. I didn't think the attendant was that hurt, but I guess I was wrong. Things turn into such a huge deal. I do feel bad. I asked the same lady where my hip bone was. A close area has been sore. I wasn't sure what the area would be classed under. Now, that was a mistake. The woman LOVES to go on about how skinny I am. Would you EVER comment on some one's weight? I bet not. She told me to "put on more padding." My butt and cheeks are big enough thanks. I always tell the lady she's beautiful. She is. Why can't she be positive towards me too? She doesn't have to compliment me, but please say something positive. The "put on more padding" remark was not meant in a mean way, but it was uncalled for. I'll be the first to admit that I am VERY sensitive about weight. It's my obsession. Sure, it's an unhealthy one, but it's mine. I'm working on managing my thoughts and being okay with myself. Isn't everyone? Who thinks they're perfect? If someone does, he or she has another problem.

This morning my attendant accidentally poked me in the eye with my toothbrush. She felt horrible. I kept telling her that I was fine. It was true. My eye stung with toothpaste, but I knew I would survive. OK or not, a poke in the peeper is not the best way to start the morning. Another attendant made me oatmeal. She made it before I even got out of the shower and she filled my small coffee cup halfway. Everyone who has ever made me coffee knows that I like my coffee cup filled right up to the top. You shortchange me on coffee and I don't like it. My breakfast was cold. The attendant who made it for me thinks I have eating issues. I do. So does this particular attendant, but her issue is being obese. Her struggle makes me sad, as it's not too different from my own. My bowl of oatmeal looked unusually hardy. Part of me thinks the other attendant and the one today agreed to secretly give me two packets. My disordered thinking tells me they want to bulk me up. Maybe this is not true. Maybe this is me being nuts. Maybe there is some truth to what I am thinking. Maybe I am having a grouchy day.

As I lifted my spoon to grumpily take my first bite of oatmeal, I couldn't help but notice that it was one minute to the eleventh hour, of the eleventh month of the eleventh day. I took a minute and remembered those who have died in past and present wars. Maybe I did eat an extra packet of oatmeal. At least I am able to freely make choices - a luxury many lose lives fighting for.


1 comment:


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