Confessions of a fat girl

So I may have gone on as many as five trips a week to the gas station a few steps from my apartment in order to grab a bag of m&ms. So maybe I googled "how to make edible cookie dough" more than twice in one day before. So maybe I put said m&ms in my edible cookie dough. So maybe I skipped working out for a few days. "A few days" in my vocabulary might mean "a few weeks." So I'm overweight.

I'm trying.

Remembrance

The sound of twenty-seven forks and twenty-seven knifes clinking against the twenty-seven china dinner plates filled the dining room. Five out of the ten children in the room chewed their food with their mouths open, despite the many attempts from their parents to do so otherwise. Celery was displayed in a vase, instead of flowers, in the middle of the table. Little Layla, only three years old, wore a pink, over-sized bonnet just like her mother, Stacy, although Stacy's bonnet was as black as night. I wasn't familiar with this anymore; it all seemed like a reoccurring bad dream from childhood that I now couldn't wake up from. I hadn't been at this dinner table in fourteen years. I wasn't excommunicated or anything, but sometimes it sure felt that way. Rumspringa happened so long ago. All of my siblings came back to the Pennsylvania Dutch country of Lancaster after they experienced "running around." Not me. Ever since I was a little girl, I was fascinated with television. I remember seeing one in an alley-way while grocery shopping with my mother when I was seven.

Pain

I have a headache. 

I feel like somebody took a metal bat to my face. Tyler received a gift card for his birthday for Red Robin. All I want to do is go to there and eat my pain away. I can't help but feel the universe is punishing me. For what? Oh, I don't know. Not doing laundry or the dishes, not studying for my calculus test, spreading too much peanut butter on my sandwiches, resting my feet on the edge (instead of the top) of the ottoman even though I know I shouldn't because it will ruin it, etc. Who knows? Maybe it's just a coincidence. Maybe I have a brain tumor.

Euphoria

What is happiness? 

As I walked into my sister's townhouse, I noticed, for what seemed like the first time, that buying things makes her happy. She has expensive taste (and let's be honest, who doesn't?) and she's not afraid to show it. As I walked past her expensive, over-sized swivel chair and made my way to her electric-footrested couch, I noticed her large 50" television and the plethora of toys she has bought for her four-year-old son over the years. She showed me the clothes and shoes she bought when she was on vacation. She showed me a picture on her new iPhone. She showed me her new Kindle Paperwhite, Wii U, iPad, etc. It was all so overwhelming. It's not that she can't afford these things (which in all honesty, I don't know if she can), it's the fact that these things honestly make her happy. But who am I to judge? As long as she doesn't have to borrow money from me (or a bank) in order to sponsor this euphoria, then it's okay, right? I think so.

Reeling

I get stopped by Bible Thumpers and Holy Rollers on campus almost every day. I've always assumed they aren't able to talk to many people because, let's be honest, no one wants to talk to them. I try to be a nice person most of the time, so I always let them ask me questions. I guess there's a group of them or something, because I always get asked the same question: "Do you think God is perfect?" That question always makes my head reel with uneasiness. Shouldn't you ask if I even believe in a god before you ask if I think this so-called god is perfect? I always answer the same way, too, by saying something along the lines of: "I don't really believe in a god. I'm not a straight-up atheist, but at the same time, I don't care to have a relationship with something no one can possibly know exists." Then they tell me some experience they had with god. It's usually something about how they were at an all-time low in their life and how god saved them by getting their heads out of their asses or something. They tell me that they used to have a Jesus-shaped hole in their heart and going to church filled it up. I can't help but shake this feeling the Jesus-shaped hole could be misunderstood. Sure, I can understand a feeling of emptiness in one's self, but I don't think you have to shove Jesus into your heart in order to feel better. There are people all over the place who aren't religious and still live very fulfilling lives. Along with being coaxed by the whole "there's a hole in my heart" line, people are also being reeled into church by the fishing rod of manipulation. Today alone I was stopped by two separate religious organizations, both of which were willing to bribe me. The first person who stopped me said there was going to be a pizza party on Friday and I was invited to ask questions about God and such. The second offered me home-made sugar cookies in exchange for my email address to receive invitations via the interweb about their church. Is it not immoral to lure a fish with bait after the fisherman goes to church on Sunday reading, "and you shall take no bribe, for a bribe blinds the clear-sighted and subverts the cause of those who are in the right, Exodus 23:8" in the Bible? You bet your ass I did my research.