Well, it was Therapy Thursday today. Another rousing rendition of "What's Eating Gilbert Grape" unfolded. I'm always trying to figure out what the hell is a matter with me and why I can't get certain aspects of my life under control.
I started out telling my therapist how things were going at work with the new boss and how I had my first "normal girl" experience at Victoria Secret. I opened my jacket and showed her how amazing my boobs were. She agreed. I told her how, last night, in a moment of playfulness, I took a picture of them (I had a tank top on, it wasn't dirty) and sent that picture to my good pal Valerina. Valerina, who was still at work, received my text and handed her phone to her cubie mate, Camo Boy, and said, "here, Cassondra texted me, what is this?" Okay, not cool. I had to apologize to Camo Boy today for being exposed to my boob pic. Clearly, Valerina is cut off from boob pictures.
Anyway, we moved on to other stuff. I shared with her that I just want to be in a place where I don't have to worry about my weight, what I wear, how it looks or what I eat. I'm tired of obsessing and then punishing myself for bad choices. We discussed the two opposite ends of the spectrum where, on one hand, one obsesses and tries to control everything, then on the other end, you say, "who gives a shit?" and just throw caution to the wind. We decided (well, mostly her) that I need to find the middle ground and that it's time to change my mantra of, "Today probably won't totally suck" to a more positive and patient mantra of, "Today is good enough." Whatever happened during this day is okay. I did the best I could and it was enough. Well, you know I can't take this kind of advice that simply. I countered to her, "What if all the People of Walmart say that everyday? They are perfectly happy with who they are. They don't care. What if I become them?" Those people take being comfortable in their own skin to a level that is unparalleled in any universe. I mean, they get up, put on a spandex unitard that exposes their back boobs and their ass cheeks and then throw on some flip flops and a clown wig and go to their "church" of falling prices. My therapist said she didn't think I could ever be a person of Walmart. Who knows, if this new mantra pays off, I could become them. Hey, I embraced yoga pants for two months, I've already had one foot in the door. My therapist was still skeptical. She does not believe I will wear a denim mini skirt with most of my badonkadonk hanging out. I guess I have to trust her, but what if I am seduced by low, low prices? It's a gamble. It's a slippery slope and once you start down, I fear there is no going back. I think what I need to do is hold on to my new-found relationship with Victoria and remember that skin is for the bedroom, not for public. No more pictures to Valerina and remember, today is good enough.
Before I left, I told my therapist there was something that had been bothering me for a long time and that I couldn't hold it back anymore. She looked concerned, and said, "okay..." That's when I told her. That's when I finally let out months worth of pent up emotion. I said, "exactly how long is this area rug going to be smooshed up against that bookshelf? It's making me crazy. Seriously, enough." I mean, the rug needs to be fixed. I know she has a lot of heavy furniture, but you can't take people that obsess about their lives and put them in a room with an area rug that is off-center. I don't know what kind of practice she's running, but this is not okay. She said that she fixes the rug issue quarterly, but I think it has been longer than a quarter. I informed her that if she left tonight thinking that "today the rug is good enough" that we need to restructure her way of thinking. If I play my cards right, she could be paying me a co-pay next time.
And yes, the next appointment is already on the calendar. Clearly, we have more work to do.
I started out telling my therapist how things were going at work with the new boss and how I had my first "normal girl" experience at Victoria Secret. I opened my jacket and showed her how amazing my boobs were. She agreed. I told her how, last night, in a moment of playfulness, I took a picture of them (I had a tank top on, it wasn't dirty) and sent that picture to my good pal Valerina. Valerina, who was still at work, received my text and handed her phone to her cubie mate, Camo Boy, and said, "here, Cassondra texted me, what is this?" Okay, not cool. I had to apologize to Camo Boy today for being exposed to my boob pic. Clearly, Valerina is cut off from boob pictures.
Anyway, we moved on to other stuff. I shared with her that I just want to be in a place where I don't have to worry about my weight, what I wear, how it looks or what I eat. I'm tired of obsessing and then punishing myself for bad choices. We discussed the two opposite ends of the spectrum where, on one hand, one obsesses and tries to control everything, then on the other end, you say, "who gives a shit?" and just throw caution to the wind. We decided (well, mostly her) that I need to find the middle ground and that it's time to change my mantra of, "Today probably won't totally suck" to a more positive and patient mantra of, "Today is good enough." Whatever happened during this day is okay. I did the best I could and it was enough. Well, you know I can't take this kind of advice that simply. I countered to her, "What if all the People of Walmart say that everyday? They are perfectly happy with who they are. They don't care. What if I become them?" Those people take being comfortable in their own skin to a level that is unparalleled in any universe. I mean, they get up, put on a spandex unitard that exposes their back boobs and their ass cheeks and then throw on some flip flops and a clown wig and go to their "church" of falling prices. My therapist said she didn't think I could ever be a person of Walmart. Who knows, if this new mantra pays off, I could become them. Hey, I embraced yoga pants for two months, I've already had one foot in the door. My therapist was still skeptical. She does not believe I will wear a denim mini skirt with most of my badonkadonk hanging out. I guess I have to trust her, but what if I am seduced by low, low prices? It's a gamble. It's a slippery slope and once you start down, I fear there is no going back. I think what I need to do is hold on to my new-found relationship with Victoria and remember that skin is for the bedroom, not for public. No more pictures to Valerina and remember, today is good enough.
Before I left, I told my therapist there was something that had been bothering me for a long time and that I couldn't hold it back anymore. She looked concerned, and said, "okay..." That's when I told her. That's when I finally let out months worth of pent up emotion. I said, "exactly how long is this area rug going to be smooshed up against that bookshelf? It's making me crazy. Seriously, enough." I mean, the rug needs to be fixed. I know she has a lot of heavy furniture, but you can't take people that obsess about their lives and put them in a room with an area rug that is off-center. I don't know what kind of practice she's running, but this is not okay. She said that she fixes the rug issue quarterly, but I think it has been longer than a quarter. I informed her that if she left tonight thinking that "today the rug is good enough" that we need to restructure her way of thinking. If I play my cards right, she could be paying me a co-pay next time.
And yes, the next appointment is already on the calendar. Clearly, we have more work to do.
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