That's what it's come down to...
Mom's concern about my weight and all the health problems she sees developing out of it...
So... in her efforts to make sure that I 1) Out live her, 2) don't develop diabetes and 3) don't die of heart disease... she's suggested that I join a weight loss program... which I can't afford but she'll gladly pay for so that I can start dropping weight.
Oh yes... her reasoning is all very encouraging... Very positive there...
I even mentioned that to her... to which her response was something along the lines of not knowing how she can put a more positive spin on her wanting me to lose weight than her wanting me to be healthier...
Nevermind that I don't really need to go on a diet since I don't eat all that much to begin with. Nevermind that I'm taking Tai Chi on weekends and that I've started working with my weights again. Nevermind that I have dropped about 5-8 pounds in the last two months...
Mom doesn't see an improvement. She sees me looking worse... which is even more encouraging. I swear... everyone else I know might see that I'm losing weight and she'll see just the opposite. And I wonder why I'm so screwed up some times...
You know... if she really wants to pay for me to do something... MORE... about my weight... why doesn't she pay for me to join a gym... or find a martial arts dojo that offers a class I want to take, at a time I can take it. Or just get off my back about it!! Because I am actually doing something about it.
As if I needed a reminder of why I will never live with my parents again, today was it. And all over my hair.
That's right... I forgot to mention the whacking my hair got Monday night, coutesy of Esowolf. Where I once had very muched damaged hair almost down to my ass, my hair is now shoulder length and healthy...
This, of course is not what my parents saw. Dad's not so bad. He simply LIKES my hair this length and wants me to keep it like that (no way in HELL). Mom on the other hand, can't get past the fact that (in her mind) my hair is uneven and so curly that I "look like the sphynx". This wild hair has now firmly lodged itself up her ass and she'd very much like me to let her even my hair out, which she's not going to do.
But that's not the point, in her mind. The point, in her mind is that I'd rather "let my friends bully me into giving me a 'hack job' that will make me the subject of many pointing fingers, odd looks and laughter" than let her get my hands on it and cut it less (because in her mind, my hair wasn't as bad as all that) but, to her mind, do a better job.
I SWEAR that woman is going to drive me even more insane than I already am... and she's telling me that I have a place in that house if I need it?!?! I'd rather throw all my shit in storage and live on a cot in Esowolf's backyard!!!
Sorry if I grossed anyone out with my last journal entry. Believe me, it really wasn't as icky as it sounded...
So my first week in Garde Manger has been pretty interesting... (If you're not familiar with the term, basically it's hot food served cold... you know, sandwiches, salads, canapés and stuff)
My new chef instructor, Chef L is this big Irish guy who doesn't take any crap. It's kinda funny listening to him go off on how American "chefs" are wusses, chefs who have TV shows are chefs who can't make it in the restaurant world and shit like that. If he gets product that's crap, he'll go off about that for an entire class.
He's actually a very cool guy when he's not yelling about something... he's pretty cool when he's yelling about something too but ya know... He doesn't baby us or tell us that something's good when it's not. If our stuff is crap, he tells us so. It's weird, after doing so well in Baking, part of me's actually relived that someone's finally telling me that my work is crap while the other part of me wants to run back to the baking campus where everyone loves me. But it's shit I have to get used to, so I'm actually dealing very well.
Especially when I get to make stuff like sushi (another thing he went off on because it's not really Garde Manger, it's international foods, but it's stuff that's served cold so he has to teach it).
In other news, my family had a bit of a weird weekend. It seems Grandma called over to the house to inform Dad that the guy living with her was coming over to kick Dad's ass....
I don't know if I've ever actually explained about Grandma. Grandma's a piece of work, let me tell you. Grandma, in my mind, is the archetypal "Good Christian Woman". The kind of person who's always right, you're always wrong and who will always get her way because she goes to church every Sunday and believes in Jesus. (She's also one of the two people in my family who were instrumental in my distaste for organized religion).
But anyway, she always got her way, never respected anyone, always did and said what she damn well pleased and that was the end of it. (This, BTW, was something Mom was warned about when she married Dad... by Grandma's own sister no less) Things were mostly tolerable up until Grandpa died when I was 8. After that, everything went to hell. Mom actually stopped speaking
to Grandma on her 40th birthday.
After that, things REALLY turned bad... but apparently only for me. Grandma would use every opportunity she could find to bad mouth Mom and stuff, but only when I was the only one who could hear her. Oh! She'd also talk to me about killing herself... Great stuff for a 12-year-old to have to listen to. But she was a smart woman, when I stopped coming by to see her after I
graduated from high school, she started going after my sister until finally both of us washed our hands of the whole situation and cut off all contact.
Fast forward a few years. The only person she has to vent her venom on is Dad. And now this guy is in the picture. We'll call him The Guy.... The Guy has been living with Grandma for months now because he doesn't want to pay rent and live with his parents. So he lives with Grandma, feeds her all sorts of stuff about my family only wanting her money, while he robs her blind, racks up her cable, gas, and electric bills... Oh she SAYS that she's never given the guy money, but there are blank checks written out to
him and money she should be able to live on for a week is gone in a matter of days.
So this weekend, we get the phone call. Grandma says The Guy is coming over to kick Dad's ass. He never showed up, of course but it set up enough alarm bells for me to do a few protection and banishing spells, set up a couple of BIG friends to watch over my parents' house and move the crowbar I keep in the trunk to the passenger's seat.
Ahh.. the joys of family...
::Best Evil Willow impersonation::
Bored now...
Esowolf and a bunch of people are supposed to be coming over for a gypsy/ren faire party tonight... Problem is... they're not here yet. So now I'm sitting here bored and downloading software updates....
Yup... Definately bored...
My parents have found out about my financial problems... One of my creditors actually called THEM looking for me... This is not how I would have them finding out about my shit... Actually, I would have prefered that they didn't find out at all, but the shit's hit the fan and to tell the truth, they're actually not giving me too much shit about it.
It's weird, it seems like they are finally getting it that they can't go hanging every little thing I do over my head because all it's going to do is push me away.
It's just weird though... but in a good way...
I also told them about my plans to go back to school. They keep bugging me about how much someone in the cooking industry makes on average. I told them the truth: I didn't ask. Of course I didn't tell them that I don't particularly care about that at the moment.... I also didn't tell them that my new goal in life is to become a tavern wench, but hey... They can't know everything, right?
BTW: Happy 4:20, ya'll!!!
Well that was fun... The carpet in one room, and the hall are clean. The top of my stove was cleaned. And it only cost me $41.00 and 4 hours of nagging. There must have been some miscommunication somewhere... I could have sworn that Mom had said SHE would pay for all the shit this time. No such luck. I think next time I take Mischa's advice and higher someone to come in and clean. It'd be cheaper and it will save me from Mom trying to figure out from who's genes I got the willingness to live in such a "pig sty". Nothing's ever good enough for her. It's a good thing she's never seen the houses of some of my friends. My place is immaculate in comparison.
It's not like I don't appreciate the help... it's just that I can do without comments such as my mom commenting that my breath smells of smoke which leads her to think that I'm on drugs or something.... Okay so that's not entirely untrue... I was at a party this weekend and there was some bud there and I did partake. But I figure I owed it to myself seeing as before Friday night I had passed up two or three golden opportunities to get completely and blissfully wasted. But we don't need the parental unit knowing this little bit of information, so I just said that there were smokers at the party... which is also true (as much as I think cigarettes are gross, having a lot of friends who are smokers does come in handy... as does hanging out with stoners. I can always pass it off by just saying that I was in the room). Of course all this leads into lectures about how the kinds of people I hang out with reflect on how people perceive me. And since I hang out with stoners, mall rats, Bohemians, and various other "street people", as Mom calls them, well then I guess I'm just your typical degenerate, then. Yay me!
But this is one of the reasons I moved out: I hate having to explain myself. ESPECIALLY when my standards are so vastly different from those of my parents. Mom once referred to me as an unkempt Bohemian, to which I said "on behalf of Bohemians everywhere, thank you."
Of course, she's coming back tomorrow, after I "get off work" (she doesn't have to know that I'm not working all week) to help me move one of my cabinets. Hopefully, by then I'll have my other futon completely assembled. I know... it sounds really bad that I'm only using my parents for menial labor and as a source of furnature (I get book shelves and DVD racks for free thanks to Dad and his garage), but I figure that as soon as I have everything the way I want it, I can tell them to shove off and stop telling me how to live my life. Selfish and masochistic, I know, but I've dealt with worse, her name is Grandma.
I get to take off work today, which should be a good thing, except that Mom is coming over to help me clean the carpets in the living room. Now this is a good thing because she's volunteered to pay for the steam cleaner and the rest of the cleaning stuff. But this is a bad thing because it means I get to spend the better part of today being nagged by my mother. The last time she was over here to clean she went so far as to say that she was glad I wasn't living in my grandmother's house because my grandmother would be turning over in her grave... if she had one. Oh yeah... that's just one of those things you alway want to hear from the lips of the parental unit. Especially when I'd prefer to be living in my grandmother's house right now... except that Mom and my Aunt won't consider lowering the rent for family.
AH... she's supposed to be here at 10. Maybe she'll forget that it's daylight savings time and show up at 11. Either way, wish me luck.