Mama Mia! : Day 24

Last night, my worst fears about my mother were confirmed.

She has got to be, by far, THE most clueless childrens' librarian on this planet. So she calls me last night (undoubtedly because I called her out on her lack of calling and she felt guilty) and says "Hi, Ang! I was just thinking about your writing class you didn't get into. You could go talk to the professor....blah blah blah," to which I replied "Mom, it's fine. I don't really care." After she continued to babble her useless "advice" to me, I said "Mom! Seriously. I was considering not even going back to school next semester, so you should be happy that I'm even going."

Silence.

"I have to say, I really don't think Harmony Grove has helped you out at all. It just doesn't seem like it's working at all."

WHAT, BITCH??? Excuse me? You have NO idea what's going on in my life right now because you never call and when I CALL YOU, you fucking babble about playing backgammon with grandma instead of asking me how I'm doing in the EATING DISORDER CLINIC I AM CURRENTLY LIVING IN.

My response to this ludacris statement? I hung up on her, obviously. My more mature follow-up response to this? I texted her saying "And don't bother to visit me on Sunday either."

After I'd calmed down (i.e., rewatch the first episode of Dawson's Creek for the 3745849th time), I called my mom back.

"I don't want you coming on Sunday." CLICK! I closed my phone. However, seeing as how I'm a dumbass, I didn't realize my phone was on speaker, and when it's on speaker, it doesn't hang up when you close your phone. Which is why it was understandable why, after closing the phone, I was freaked out to hear my mom's voice say "But we want to come on Sunday!"

I was like HOLY SHIT! Ed sounds just like my mom!! After realizing my mistake, I decided I'd just talk to her. She apologized and said "I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me." I don't really know if she was serious or not, because aside from the fact that that is a seriously gay statement, it kind of sounded like she wanted to laugh.

So the jist of it is that my parents are still coming on Sunday. And I just KNOW they're going to piss me off. My parents will either a) tell me I look healthy (which I interpret as "fatter"), b) make some comments about how I should be a fitness instructor of some sort (they've said this before; I have no idea why they would tell me something like that at a time like this, but alas, they are clueless), or c) bring up a restaraunt or food they have just tried and how delicious it was.

I swear to God I am adopted.

Today in group behavioral therapy, Maira made a comment that struck me so hard I had to copy it down:

"What's so wrong about acknowledging how fabulous we are?"

WHY is that?? I honestly cannot take a compliment. It makes me uncomfortable. If someone said to me "You look nice", I might be like "You too!" or "No, I don't," and change the subject immediately. I cannot just let myself take it in and say "Thank you" or "Yeah, I know," --not in a bitchy way, but in a way that says "Yeah, I think I look pretty good too." Why is that so bad? And why do I have such a hard time doing it? I am fabulous, dammit, and I need to start celebrating it!

We had interpretive dance again today. WITH SCARVES. If you think that interpretive dance couldn't get any better than it already is, you are wrong, my friends! Scarves enhance the experience 10-fold. The best part of the whole experience was when Francine--scarf strewn about her shoulders--started gyrating her hips and rocking them back and forth. She also felt the need to make eye contact with me while doing this vulgar dance. I, of course, responded by starting to laugh hysterically. I started doing it as well, and said something along the lines of "I never thought I'd be doing this motion, ever!" And Franny laughed and shouted "If you can't do it here, where can you do it??" to which I responded with "EXACTLY!"

Goddamn, I love interpretive dance.

I talked to my mom again today. For 7 minutes (I looked at the length on my cell phone). Within that 7 minutes, she unfortunately acted as expected. When I told her that the dietitian gave me the challenge of having pancakes for breakfast, my mom felt it appropriate to say "Well, that makes sense. Pancakes have tons of calories in them, so she might think you need more of those."

Those words were like knives through my eating disordered heart.

Speaking of the dietitian, I now have ONE REQUIRED SNACK. Umm...what?!?! I know, I know, I was pissed at having the option of doing snack because I couldn't handle choices, but I was starting to enjoy it. Or at least Ed was. But now she said only one is optional. Of course, this causes my mind to race in a hundred different directions:

1. Is it because I told her honestly that I've only done one snack ONCE one day since she made them optional and she's scared I'm going all anorexic again?

2. Is it because I've lost or maintained weight?? (This, of course, caused me a bit of a rush when I considered it).

3. Is she a bitch out to ruin my life? (This was Ed's thinking, not mine).

Ugh. So many thoughts. So many migraines.

Friday night we're ordering pizza. Fuck goddamn cocksucking son of a bitch. This really, really freaks me out. As much as I don't want it to, as much as I would nearly KILL to not care, I just do.

Aimee and I talked a lot last night. I had gone out on the balcony to talk to my mom and I think I might talk a little louder than I realize, because even with the balcony door closed, she asked me when I got in if I wanted to talk. She either a) heard me, b) noticed my teary-eyed, puffy face and heard me sniffling or c) both. So we wound up talking for like an hour. About so much. It's so, so nice to be surrounded by people who GET IT. Truly, truly get it. It drives me crazy sometimes and I just want to shout "PUT ME WITH NORMAL PEOPLE!! UGGGH!" I know here that these fellow EDers are my peeps. My homies fo' lyfe.

You know what else confused me? EVERY DAY for the past 23 days I have worn pajama pants to the office and therapy, etc. It's my thing. My staple. If a new person said "Who's Angie?" I bet you most of the other residents would respond with "The one in the pajamas." Well today, a staff member (the evil one who forced Ensure down my throat) said "We have to pair pants to the office." Well, not to be a smart ass, but I was wearing pants. Pajama pants. So I said "We do?" thinking she was kidding. And she said "Yeah, if I could wear pajamas, I totally would. But we can't." Um. Okay. Did you just instate this rule in the last .04 seconds?? Because that's the only way I'll believe you, you bitch. Ugh. I don't like her.

An affirmation for day 24:

"My body is a beautiful expression of my spirit."

Yeah, right.