Red Hot Mutha'

Vince and I saw CATCF on Saturday night while Steve was at my brother's bachelor party. Johnny Depp was great in the movie. Don't listen to the critics who say the movie's not good. Tim Burton really followed the original storyline very well. If you don't agree, go re-read the book. Willy Wonka was very odd, in fact, I doubt he really even liked children very much. I say, Johnny Depp got it right. I'll have to ask my brother, though, because he did a book report on CATCF every year from 3rd grade until 9th grade or so. He'd be the expert. (By the way, to the bee-atch who said "Oh my god, she's bringing a baby to the movies!": I hope you sat next to the hyper six year old who couldn't shut up and sit still during the entire movie. Had you sat next to Vinnie and I, you might have been able to actually watch the film.)

So somedays I feel great. I'm happy with my body; I like the fact that I actually have hips and a little ass for once. On these days, I decide to turn over a new leaf and enjoy myself. But the next day I'm right back where I started: I don't have a kind word to say to myself. I look and all I can see is ugly ugly ugly. So I try to analyze why I feel like this. It has nothing to do with bad moods, PMS, or meds. It has to do with the fact that I can't let go of the eating disorder because if I do, I'm afraid that I'll lose control and become some fat soccer mom that no one recognizes any more. Having these thoughts in the back of my mind keeps me from going over the edge, and just saying the hell with it all, I'll eat all godamned day if I want. Or so I think. I know it sounds absurd. In fact, I hate thinking about it (no one would believe that, now would they?It has been argued that I actually enjoy thinking like this. Perhaps these people don't know me as much as they think they do). I have so many other wonderful things to think about and so many other things to do that I really don't have time to worry about how I look. And it's not that I judge other women as I judge myself: I think most movie stars look sick nowadays with all their bones showing. Yet, day in and day out, it's always on my mind. A therapist once told me that it's up to me to get rid of this way of thinking. I want to, but I've been thinking this way since fifth grade. I'm 33 now; you do the math.

oh yeah, Steve and I saw Episode Three last week while V was at his grandparents' house. I really enjoyed it. I mean, what the hell do people expect? Episode two and four are already finished so there's very little left to the imagination. We all know what has to happen. It was really funny to see the two people in front of us turn and look quizzically to one another when they "found out" that Luke and Leia were twins! Imagine! I want to know what rock they've been hiding under for the last twenty-some years.(These people were my age, too. No excuses.)

Baby V's making this high-pitched scream right now. I like to refer to him as the Black Canary when he does this because it's enough to bring an elephant to its knees. So I'm going to go see what he wants. He'll probably just smile at me, like he always does. He's saying, "Ha! I got you mom!" You sure do, baby boy. You sure do.