Another Sell-Out

Dear Lord - just when I can't see it coming, it runs me over. Now, the oh-ever-so conscious "healthful" daytime TV show cook, Rachael Ray, has a new contract with Dunkin Donuts. Yes, you heard it here. Dunkin-Fuckin-Donuts. Not Kashi, not Raisin Bran, not Soy Milk, not Nutri-Grain bars, not even a diet cola. But donuts. What on earth could be WORSE for you than a donut? Except perhaps a donut followed by a bucket of KFC and 18 martinis? She's got TV shows (plural), she's the spokeswoman for Ritz, has a plethora of cookbooks - AND a talk show (although I'm not exactly sure if that's still on or if it got cancelled.....). Exactly how much money does one person need?!??!?!? And if you want to further endorse goodies to make extra moolah, how about some granola or orange juice or almonds? Good God - fried dough. What next? Marlboros?

Disappointed Fatima

Mumsie Dearest

So, here I've thought all these years that I've been able to hide most of my issues/problems from my mother - with very few exceptions. Obviously she had to know about my divorce, and there were a few other scattered things that I've admitted to her over the years.

But when she came to visit me after my back surgery last August, she brought me a "Life Recovery" edition/version of the Bible. Life Recovery. How did she know? Who told her? One of my kids? Doubtful. My husband? Hardly. My sister. Possibly, but I doubt that too - she has her own issues which unfortunately my mother would quickly bring up and point out. Surely my sister would know to keep her mouth shut lest the subject would suddenly change over to her.

Methinks it's because she not only knows me because I'm her first born, but in many ways I'm like my father. Who or what evil force exactly gives mothers this odd intuition? And, it should be removed immediately. Aren't we entitled to our own private addiction-filled lives?

So how did she know? Because she's my mother. Now that I'm a mother, I know when my kids are depressed, when they're moody, when they're lying, when they've been drinking, etc. Perhaps not 100% of the time (and that's a good thing!) but basically I know.

So now she's moving out here. What secrets will I have left? Will this lead me to my old teenage ways of sneaking and lying? I hope not. It's taken me 30 years to get away from that mode of secret-keeping. I live my life and that's all there is to it; like it or leave it. That's not to say I don't try to be respectful of other's feelings, and I'm not hedonistic - but I am an adult. Hopefully this move won't make me feel like I'm 13 again. Not that I ever really felt that way at 13; in fact I remember I was always the more "dominant" one in our relationship even tho she was the mother. I always got my way with her. She would defer to me - and I'm praying to God that continues!!

Slightly-Anxious-Fatima

Weigh in on Weight

So far all me and my therapist and psychiatrist have gone over is a little OCD, a little bi-polar (and I do really mean a "little" of these things - I'm not a full one of either). Anyway, my next appointment is next Wednesday (around May 2 or something like that), and we will then begin to discuss weight issues - cause and effect.

I've been doing a lot better on the WW Core program, eating whole foods, going to Curves, and following some of the advice/suggestions from "The Secret," but I fear there's way more deep down that has yet to be uncover.

One interesting thing that came out last night is that I tend to be rebellious, and much of that rebelliousness dates back to my father and "showing him I'll do whatever the hell I want to do."

Enought of that - literally.

I'll let you all know what comes out of our weighty discussion - no pun intended.

Less Weighty Fatima (I think I've lost around 17-18 pounds now)

Just Something I Thought was Funny.....

Fatima's Book Club

Ok, so Fatima's Book Club it's not Oprah's book club, but screw her. I'm still young - I can start my own book club if I want to. Some of her suggestions have sucked anyway.

Now, I don't normally give advice (OK, well, I do, but I honestly try not to unless asked) - but I highly recommend buying the book "The Secret," by Rhonda Byrne. Yes, it's another "kinda" self-help book but of a different genre. It goes along with "so as a man (or woman) thinketh, so he is"- but it's not terribly religious in nature. Very good ideas, thoughts, examples. But it's not as pithy and "simple" as Norman Vincent Peale or Robert Schuller's "Positive Thinking"exercises of the 70s. Especially for those of us who are a little on the cynical, snide, depressed, negative side of life - it can provide new perspective. It's all based on the "law of attraction," and I don't mean sexual attraction, but rather that what we think about over and over, we attract - whether that's good (positive) or bad (negative).

I've actually tried some of the exercises/thoughts for the last 10 days or so with some pretty outstanding results. If nothing else, it's a fairly short book - not terribly expensive and wouldn't hurt to add to your library.

Fatima-the-Reader

Vice Squad

Why exactly is it that other people's vices bother us so much? And I'm lecturing myself as well as all you poor souls reading this because I'm not immune. Is it because we think we're better than they are? Do we think we could never sink to that level? Have we perhaps seen ourselves doing some of these things and we don't want to slip back into that particular bad behavior, i.e., the ex-smokers who are such assholes about others' smoking, or ex-fatties who can't stand fat people?

Many years ago, I was regular weight but smoked. A co-worker AND a good friend of mine teased me about my cigarette break, "Oh! Going out for another coffin nail, are ya?" Okay, she weighed in at about an easy 300. But if on the way to the daily donut box I had said to her, "Oh! going for another fried piece of cellulite, are ya?" I would have been the pariah of the office. I would have hurt her feelings and ruined our otherwise good relationship. Postscript: I ended up quitting smoking; she's probably tipping the scales at closer to 400 these days - seriously.

Then there was my father (God rest his soul; now deceased) who also couldn't stand fat people, but smoked, did drugs, did prison time, cussed, was snide & cynical, etc., but made wisecracks about the overweight. My own mother has struggled with her weight all her life, but makes comments about the seriously obese.

Where the HELL is everyone's compassion and understanding about personal issues others face? I mean I have NO compassion for a child rapist, but for God's sake that little "habit" is on a totally different level than someone who turns to a cigarette, pipe, bottle, or a donut to relieve stress - don't you think?

I don't want to get up on my soapbox, but I will for a moment. Perhaps we all need to revisit the logs in our own eyes before pointing out the splinters in others. If we spent more time on self-improvement and love for our fellow mankind, maybe someone's smoking, drinking or eating could actually be understood or we could have concern for them instead of disdain.

Fatima on her Soapbox

Empty Nest....No More

My two oldest hoodlums moved out of the house on the same day in August 2006. Many tears were shed that day by all of us, but it was for the best. The eldest had flown home to help me after back surgery and then left in late August to go be with her husband before they reported to their new duty station in Italy. The middle child left home the very same day to go move into her dorm room. Those traitors left me alone in a house with my mother (!), my 3 year old, and my husband - all of whom talk to themselves. Oy vey, Jose.

Anyway, August seems to be the month of changes in my life. My mother is coming to live with us in late May until she can find senior housing. How long will that take? I'm hoping the wait is only something like 2-3 months and not a year....Sweet Jesus. The middle child is going to move home this summer and save us some $$ on room and board because we live plenty close enough for her to commute to school. Then, I was notified last week that the eldest will be moving back in from August to December because her husband's going back to Afghanistan with Uncle Sam for a year; she'll be lonely, wants to see us, blah blah blah.

Meds need to be increased immediately, and I need to find hobbies QUICKLY. Send any and all ideas as soon as possible. Oh, and did I mention the road trip from hell I have to take with my mother from California to Maryland? It's a shame you can't drink heavy brown liquor straight out of the bottle while you drive. Who made those silly laws anyway? I'm already imagining the relentless 4 days worth of blather I'll have to listen to on my cross-country trek.

Pray for Fatima!

I'm Okay, You're Not So Okay

Okay, so I'm over at our friends' house tonight discussing crazy people - my favorite subject. He is a Physician's Assistant at the VA in Baltimore; she is a Colonel (Ph.D.). is the US Army having served two terms counseling PTSD folks at Abu Graihb (Sp?) and now works at Walter Reed Army Facility.

You know what? I'm not crazy at all. Not at fucking all. I have some quirks, some weaknesses, some OCD moments, even a little bi-polar shit going on, I have some depressive moments for no reason at all - but I. AM. NOT. CRAZY. Not according to these folks and the stories they tell about their patients. Oh. My. Their patients who rape, murder, torture, talk to themselves (out loud!), hurt themselves, eat their feces, etc.

I'm a fucking miracle to be alive. So, I have a few little wierdnesses.............who doesn't? And if they say they don't, I don't' believe them and don't trust them.

Like Eddie Vedder from Pearl Jam says - oh, I, I, I'm still alive, yeah, I. I, I'm still alive.............

Rock on Eddie. All you other crazy fuckers made my day. However I still have compassion for you. Strong, serious compassion. And I hope that there either comes a day when you're either medicated properly, or you can somehow function in this society without bias and ridicule.

Normal Fatima

On Being Normal (whatever that is...)

So, I've figured out that I'm frequently bored. Actually I've known that for some time. In fact my parents were told that by some psychologists/psychiatrists when I was a young child. Did I ever tell you that I skipped the 3rd grade? No? Well, I did. I don't say that to brag, it was just another boredom thing. My parents were told to keep me from getting bored. In fact, they did just quite the opposite.

Thus, to keep me unbored, I have drank, smoked, medicated, eaten, shopped, etc., all to fill some void and to keep me 'interested' in life I guess. I think I need to observe some normal people (surely there have to be 3 or 4 still in existence) to see exactly what it is they do with themselves every day. Hobbies? Knitting? Exercise? Clean house? Sudoku puzzles?

I will observe them, watch them, follow them, stalk them if I have to, in order to see what it is that fills a normal person's day. But we all know I won't do that. Eventually, they will bore me too. Oh well; time to go take a happy pill and study for a quiz in a class that, uh, bores me too. Perhaps knitting is the answer. It will keep my hands busy and I can give away my masterpieces as gifts to unsuspecting friends and relatives. I think my sister and my friend, Paula, would especially appreciate holiday sweaters this Christmas!

Bored Fatima

....and Even More Therapy

Yes, all the foolish past and present must come out, but just how much do I divulge, and at what times? One thing I find humorous is when I say something that actually makes a Psychiatrist or a Psychologist raise their eyes. (Hey! I thought you were trained not to do that!!!) Anyway, last night was no different. I got a few raised eyes. Oy. The pain and suffering it must be to be my therapist! Bless them!

Crazy Fatima!

My Prayer for all of Us...

....that we never feel the pain and anguish of the parents, families and victims of the VA Tech attack, nor do we ever feel the anguish of the mental illness that causes people like the shooter to do what he did. Must be horrid anguish on both sides - to be full of rage, hatred, confusion, loneliness, etc., and to be filled with sorrow over the loss of a child. I have a college-age child and I can't even begin to imagine what the parents, friends and relatives all must be going through. I pray every day for their healing.

Fatima-in-sorrow

Well, Damn if They Haven't Gone and Thought of Everything!

The Only Math Formula I Know

Shopping = Happiness

Sad. Isn't it? My therapist told me the more and the longer I'm on my anti-depressant meds, the shopping tendency should subside to something normal. Okay. First of all, crazy people don't know what "normal" is; and secondly, what will I do when I don't shop? Read? I used to read a lot; but you have to buy books. I can't do libraries because I always end up owing them fines and it pisses me off. This guy doesnt' know it yet, but he really has his work cut out for him.......

My task: what void is shopping filling in my life? Intimacy? Self-love? Self-esteem? Boredom? We'll see.

But meanwhile, isn't this the cutest Spring Coach bag you've EVER seen? If any of you want to get it for me, it's only $498...

Purse-lovin'-Fatima

Easter should be Banned!

Ok, I'm a Christian and Easter is our holiest of holy days - but it's also our sugariest of sugar days. We filled up our 3 year old's basket with enough sugar to feed most third world countries, then told her "No, you can't eat that - it's got too much sugar." I know she's thinking in her little 3 year old mind, "Are these fuckers crazy? Didn't they just give this to me? Exactly WHEN do I get to eat it?!"

Alright, we're not that bad, we let her have about two things a day. However, there are no holds barred for mom and dad. I ate an entire caramel-filled chocolate bunny. I ate my 3 year old's Easter bunny! There's got to be a special place in hell for that. Or perhaps not, since I guess Satan doesn't really do the whole Easter thing...............Oh well, getting back to the candy and chocolate. The other wonderful things in her (my) basket are Snickers eggs. Oh. My. God. Somehow, they're better than a regular Snickers.

Anyway, this is now what I'm sure I look like from behind. Serves me right. Any mother that would eat her toddler's Easter bunny should look like this!

FAT-ima

Sisterly Love

I now watch my two much older daughter with their tiny little sister and see the love in their eyes for her, and in hers for them. They all literally adore one another. Never dawned on me, not once, that my little sister may have loved me that much. I know I loved her dearly and missed her dearly when I left home at the tender age of 18. It's not excuse, but I got pregnant, married, started setting up house, playing housewife and mommy, etc., and basically ignored my little sister figuring she was too busy crooning over some 80s version of a Backstreet Boy to give her much older sister any thought. I've since learned I was wrong (I keep learning that in life) I seem to learn more often than not that I'm wrong than I'm right..........anyhow, this is usually designated as a "romance" song, but every time I hear it, it reminds me of her and how much I still love and miss her.

Maybe I didn't love you

Quite as often as I could have

Maybe I didn't treat you

Quite as good as I should have

If I made you feel second best

Girl I'm sorry I was blind

You were always on my mind

You were always on my mind

Maybe I didn't hold you

All those lonely, lonely times

And I guess I never told you

I'm so happy that you're mine

Little things I should have said and done

I just never took the time

You were always on my mind

You were always on my

Words & Music by Willie Nelson (although I like the Elvis version too!)

I still am happy that you're mine, and you still are always on my mind. I hope I do a little better job now showing it than I used to.

Sistah Fatima (P.S. I know she's flipping out because I don't ever use the right copyright info in anything I use on the net - but I figure - what are they going to sue me for? My $5.46 savings account? Or my Pier One pillows? Bitch - I'll go to jail for those!) Anyway, the picture is cool and it's from Jeremy Sutton.com

I Can Smother Like Norman Bates

My husband told me last night I was smothering. Smothering. Me. The one who was raised in a family who rarely touched let alone cuddled, hugged, etc. It wasn't until I married him (and also began having children) that I became physically demonstrative at all. And over time, it has grown and developed into the kind of physical-ness which I consider normal. And then idiot-boy tells me I tend to smother him when we're having troubles, arguments, fights, etc.

So there were tears and hurt feelings and reminders of how far I've come in 21 years, only to then be told I'm now too smothering. You see, it was him who told me 21 years ago, "hold me," "love me," "hold my hand," "be close to me." And other such things which imply physical closeness or now what they refer to as PDAs (except at home they're just either intimate displays of affection or they're sexual) Fuck him. See just how understanding I can be? Now of course this will end up taking way too much in my next therapy session (DAMN HIM!)

Perhaps tonight, after he's well asleep, I'll demonstrate just how smothering I can be........

Beware Fatima

Is this guy CRAZY?!?!?

I wouldn't even do this to save one of my kids. I'd tell them as Dudley Moore said in Arthur, "you're a goner."

Burr Fatima

Retail Therapy vs. Arson

So, yesterday I told my psychiatrist about my retail therapy habit. Of course he asked me why, what purpose does it serve for you, why do you do this - you know........all those questions you have no fucking answer for. Anyway, I think about it for a minute and I said, "I guess cause it makes me happy." So, he goes and doubles my anti-depressants thinking that if I'm happier, perhaps I won't shop so much (he has NO idea...........) but also he thinks it will help with my, uh, obsessive compulsive issues. I don't do the hand-washing, or checking and re-checking locks routines, but I obsess over silly shit and then shop. Until I obsess over crap again, and then shop again. And so forth. Tom Cruise would be so disappointed in me. Like I give two shits. Perhaps I'll obsess over that tonight and then go buy him a Xenu outfit and a doughnut for his ever disappearing wife, Katie, who I used to like - until she found something attractive about him.

But I digress. I told my husband and one of my daughters about my OCD, and they said they could have told me that - there's no reason to go to therapy to be told I have OCD when we've all known that for years. I hate them both. I then happily (cuz now I'm perpetually happy) told them that I'll give up retail therapy for arson. They shut up.

Fiery Fatima

Cut My Ears Off, I've Heard it all Now

Keith Richards has just admitted that he snorted his father's ashes. Now, I don't mean his father's cigar or cigarette ashes - I mean HE SNORTED HIS DEAD, CREMATED, FATHER'S ASHES.

Now, I've mistaken dark chocolate for milk chocolate; brussels sprouts for broccoli; green Kool-aid for green tea; blue socks for black socks when getting dressed in the dark - but this one truly takes the cake.

Like I said - I've heard it all now. I think I can quit going to the crazy doctor now. I feel perfectly normal!

Normal Fatima

Why My Husband and I Don't Get Along

This is where I want to live:





This is where he wants to live:

I definitely don't want my fat ass shoveling horse-shit and snow when I'm 70!!!

Hula Fatima

This I Fear, Therefore I Won't Let it Happen.....

And this is all I have to say on this subject......

Not that the croc would be full after eating her, he'd still need another 4 or 5 regular sized people, but it would be fun to watch.

Mean Fatima

The Dumbest Thing my Husband Ever Said...

Now after 21 years of marriage, there are many (MANY) possibilities for this article, but this one happened today and it just took the icing, the cake and the two wax figures on top that resemble bride and groom.

Me: (scratching my thigh over and over)

Him: I told you that you were tanning for too long. If you didn't tan for so long, you wouldn't burn and then itch so much.

Me: And since when did I ever listen to you?

Him (Here it comes!): Then why did you get married?

WHY. DID. YOU. GET. MARRIED? Oh my ever loving sweet mother of our Lord Jesus. Yes, right dear, I got married because I couldn't make a single decision without your input. It's a wonder I was ever able to pick out breakfast cereal at 12 without your input, or choose a college, or pick out what to wear to school.

Needless to say this sparked a royal one, albeit a rather humorous one - but meanwhile I'm searching the Internet now as we speak to find him a mail order bride who will listen and hang on to his every word!

Astonished Fatima