Today’s Weight … 124.5

(My head is now hung in shame.)

Don’t get it? Check this post.

Have I been stressing a little about writing this post?  Well, yeah. After five days of attempted dieting, I get the distinct pleasure of telling you that I am not only not lighter but have also gained a pound.  Go, me! I started off strong and determined … then found myself sliding into the weekend and a bit of a funk. (Isn’t it funny how calling it a ‘funk’ makes it somehow a little cuter and socially acceptable than the words ‘depressed’ or, worse, ‘depression?’)

Now a little more than five months in to this whole ODNT thing, I’ve read my share of other writers and bloggers.  And I find myself a little jealous of their anonymity and, therefore, ability to write with no regard to the reaction of the person on the other end of the sentence.  Not long ago, I wrote about having a dark day. A day where I literally stayed in my bed and attempted to hide from everything that was going on around me.  At that time, a dark day made sense for me.  And I knew no one would besmirch me that dark day as my family had just experienced a great loss.  On the heels of my own health problems just one month prior.  I had it coming, right? No one would judge me for that.

The thing is … that those kinds of dark days … the kind where you stay in bed eating cookies and watching reruns of ‘Will & Grace’ or whatever … are rare.  In life, there are just too many things to do, errands to run, emails to return, calls to make, kids to shuttle, groceries to buy, meals to cook, bills to pay, Girl Scout cookies to sell (God help me – that’s coming soon) to stay in bed whenever we’re feeling blue (that’s another cute code word for ‘depressed’).  So, we get up and out and push ourselves to do all of these stupid little things, despite whatever’s troubling us at the time.  Just like we push ourselves to keep going through a bad cold, a pounding headache, etc.

Those functioning dark days are the ones I see most often.  I sort of think everyone has them but is afraid to talk about them. Especially the men.  It’s viewed as a sign of weakness.  And we’re all afraid that we’ll have our steak knives taken away at the dinner table if people perceive us as anything less than perfectly stable.  Whatever that means.

Anyway, please stick with me as I stumble through happy, goofy posts about cow udder creams, bird bras and naked mole rats as well as when I offer the occasional peek into the real world. Of course, my version doesn’t have a bunch of twentysomethings mugging and overdramatizing for the cameras all the time. And there are no monologue-esque ‘confessionals’ spoken directly to the audience … but wouldn’t that be awesome?

This is the true story … of four relatives … and one cat … forced to live in a house … work together and have their lives blogged about … to find out what happens … when people stop being polite … and start getting real … the Real World.

That joke only works if you’ve ever seen The Real World.  And, since it’s been on MTV since ’92, I’m banking on the fact that you have. Anyway, this is MY real world.  Sometimes it’s funny, sometimes it’s real … and sometimes it’s real funny.