I’ve been feeling really stressed lately. I have two high-test jobs with two high-profile producers, I’m actively seeking more freelance work, and I have no less than 4 weddings to edit. Plus I’m looking for an apartment, trying to find time for my friends, and I gained all this weight so none of my pants fit me anymore. The latter is unrelated to the former or anything else, but contributes to my discontent in a way that only weight gain can.

Each day, before getting out of bed, I check my email. Usually it’s just mailing list spam-crap, but today there was an email from my producer. It wasn’t a happy email. And it’s my fault that it wasn’t a happy email. If there’s one thing that makes me feel worse than wearing ill-fitting pants, it’s feeling totally inept, and so if he’s not happy then I’m not happy and nobody’s happy. So let’s take that as a start.

Then I had this job interview for some freelance work. I’m feeling like a fat slug, I have nothing to wear, it’s pouring rain, and my hair has all the bounce and body of a dead rat. Plus, I’m like, why would anyone want to hire ME? I can’t even do basic MATH, it’s a miracle I can even put my SHOES on in the morning without HURTING somebody. I sucked in my gut, buttoned my old trouser jeans, and resignedly pinned back my bangs. I looked like shit. No lie.

So the interview went OK I guess, and then I went to Starbucks to do some work, and got yet MORE bad news from the boss. So feeling less happy. Feeling a little panicked, in fact. Feeling, for the first time in months, like an Ativan might be in order.

Instead, I turned to retail therapy. There was an Urban Outfitters near the Starbucks, and Lo! A sale on jeans! Things looking up! Except for how they had no jeans in my new, bigger size. Except for how, en route to the Urban, I got a CALL from my producer. Still not happy. So I’m still not happy. Even if they HAD my size at Urban, I STILL would not have been happy. Work is more important to me than well-fitting clothes, you see.

But I was scheduled for a lunch date with Shanna and baby Hayden, and baby therapy seemed like not such a bad thing. She’d asked me to pick up some sandwiches for us, and a bag of chips, and I was all set to do that until the lady in the sandwich store yelled at me for not closing the refrigerator. So I forgot all about the chips, and felt like a huge asshole.

Then I had baby therapy and a beer, and I ate my whole huge sandwich and felt like a beast, and then I got my hair cut and realized I had no cash for a tip, meanwhile, I’ve gotten ANOTHER email about the work situation and things are NOT looking up but I still have to go to the post office and mail this DVD this client’s been asking about for like MONTHS and maybe I can bring the tip to her tomorrow before I leave for DC? Then holy shit I still have to pack and what do I wear and what do I have that fits me and at least my hair looks a little better now but SERIOUSLY JUST SHOOT ME IN THE FACE BECAUSE IJUSTCANTTAKEITANYMORE.

Aaah. Now I feel better.