Salty Cougar

I am more than a bit cranky this week. There is no particular reason for my irritability either. Nope I am just salty. Sure there are contributing factors. I will say no more - lest I risk going from irritable to downright pissy. But truth be told all my little contributing crabby factors are really pretty little problems that would not exist if I wasn't blessed with such an amazing life.  So it just seems wrong to even say them out loud. Plus it would make me sound pathetic.
 

What I will say is that one thing that is adding to my bad mood that is legitimate is that I have an intense craving for a cigarette at least 60% of my waking hours. I quit years ago! But here I am jonesin’ for a cancer stick. You remember my encounter with the sign holder the last time I tried to buy a pack? Well in case you forgot click here: http://katberggren.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-miss-smoking.html. Needless to say, I’m not about to try that again.

But really, what the hell Verdell?  I am salty enough to cure a 100 pound ham right now!

One thing that isn't helping is my little one is getting ready for her first reconciliation this weekend. Therefore, I see a confessional in my future. (At our parish – one goes and the whole family has to go too.) Honestly I think that might be causing me some angst and adding to my less than sunny demeanor. In general I dislike having to admit my failures. Having to sit face to face with a priest and vocalize my sins makes my stomach turn. I do my best to be a good person, but I am not a saint and I make mistakes.

The biggest little issue though is that I am getting old. Hence the cougar reference. I am trying desperately to maintain, but each year it is getting harder and harder. Being surrounded by hundreds of 18-22 year old co-eds every single day is not good for my ego. I see girls walking through the halls with their tight little 20 something bodies, their bright eyes and shiny hair and then I catch my reflection in the sky way windows and I think – “who is that old lady?” I may act like a college kid at any given Redbull sponsored event, but it is getting increasingly difficult for me to blend with the college crowd. I recently found another gray hair and I bought a new scale that swears at me worse than my old car radio used to do. (Yes the Vibe had quite a little potty mouth on her before she was reprogrammed.) The scale flashes bold black digital numbers at me that I am having a difficult time accepting. Remember that my old scale had black fingernail polish so that I could not see the offensive specific number I just knew that it was within a range that I agreed to accept. This scale does not know how my scale rules work and mocks me going up and down, up and down.

This is of course the exact time when we would be invited to go to a water park with two other families. It would be so much fun for us all to go together. I love them dearly. HOWEVER…the other wives are not having the struggles I am one works out regularly – and you can tell, the other is thin and young. Blechkt! That means I am going to be forced to work out, dye my hair again and stop eating so many grapes and grains. So you have been warned. I am salty and the chances of this improving soon rely on the speed upon which I can drop 15 lbs and become a blond.