It's two in the morning, and I'm crying over the boy who really isn't worth my tears.
I think I loved him a lot more than he loved me. I gave so much of myself to him, to the relationship, I was so ready to compromise and work on things...
My life is such a mess. I have an 8-10 page term paper due...I'm supposed to submit a draft for peer-editing on Tuesday and I only have about 4.5 pages, and my thesis is total shit.
My grandma still thinks my vegetarianism is a "diet" and keeps asking me how come I haven't lost any weight yet. It's like it's all Mom and Grandma can ever talk about, both behind my back and to my face. I try to ignore it, not let it bother me, etc. but it does! It does, o.k.? It cuts me right to the quick. And Mom will say something accusing about how bread, rice, and noodles are making me fat. First of all, there is absolutely nothing wrong with carbs. And second of all, I buy flourless sprouted whole grain bread, brown rice, and whole wheat pasta. The only time I eat white rice is if I go to a Chinese restaurant (and then only steamed, never fried) and I can't even remember the last time I had pasta! (Oh wait...yes I can....I once made macaroni and cheese with Chad. Shit. Stop reminding me!)
On Thanksgiving, I spent alllll day cooking and cooking to make dinner for 12. It was exhausting. Finally, I was done and I went to my room to get dressed. Ready to collapse, having no idea what to wear, hair dissheveled and frizzy, I finally pulled on a pair of jeans and a black turtleneck and had my sister braid my hair.
Mom: Can't you wear something *else*? Something more interesting?
Me: No.
Mom: And why don't you let your hair down?
Me: Because it looks awful. I used Sarah's shampoo...
Grandma: Why aren't you wearing any make-up? You want your cousins from New York to see your pimples?
Me: I'm wearing mascara....
Grandma: It is shameful that you're so fat when your cousin is thin like a ballerina!
It was at that point that I snapped. I screamed at everybody until they left my room and refused to change anything about the way I was dressed.
I wanted nothing more than to hide somewhere and have a good cry but five minutes later, our guests arrived. I had to pretend to be happy and confident. I had to reheat food and serve it and jump up and down, running to and from the kitchen all evening long. I got some help with the dishes, at least. I feel overworked and taken advantage of. Mom just lets me do all the work because I "like cooking." Well, I occasionally enjoy cooking, but cooking a lavish meal for 12 people is exhausting and not enjoyable whatsoever, and instead of running around panicking, complaining, shopping for unnecessary things (I *know* we need a new toaster, but we don't need it *today*!), and picking fights with our relatives, you could get in the kitchen and help me a little! Grandma helped me a lot, and even Sarah helped a little, but Mom didn't help at all. The ego boost I got from all the compliments everyone gave me on the food made me feel a little better. My aunt was so impressed that I made a yeast bread from scratch. Heck, it isn't magic. That was actually the only part I enjoyed--the kneading.
Oh, and did I mention we're hosting Christmas this year, too? Greeeeaaaaaaaat. Let's do the whole thing again! No. I'm not putting up with this again. Mom is helping me, or else we are buying things from the store and not doing everything from scratch. And moreover, we are asking the guests to bring dishes! I am *not* doing all the work this time!
I have never been so glad to go back to school. Yet, at the same time I have never dreaded school so much. (I dread the papers, the projects, the exams....but the time with my friends and away from my family is appealing right now.)
Oh, yeah, and I turned 21. Whatever. Alcohol is dumb, anyway.
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