I’m not in the mood to type up a lot about this weekend, but I’ll give a run-down anyway because typing might help to keep me awake for another ten minutes. Friday after work I was tired from having sat in the office all day. Lack of sunlight drains my energy faster than repeats of “Mama’s Family” on TV. So rather than hit X3 that night, I talked Lushbaugh into seeing a Monday matinee. Then I spent the rest of the evening doing something else, but I can’t remember what.

Saturday I got up and tossed a bunch of stuff together to head to LGT. I figured I’d only be staying one night, so there was no reason to pack an entire suitcase. So I just tossed my deoderant, toothbrush, toothpaste, underwear, bra, and the latest SFOL T-shirt in my backpack with my laptop. I figured I’d bring the SFOL shirt so everyone could see the design Sarah came up with for the club she worked so hard on. Then I drove to LGT and hung out at the house as people arrived. Aunt Kathleen and her two girls–Caroline and Beth–came, Jolene (Sarah’s friend) came, Katie and her three girls–Emily, Ally, and Kelly–came, and in general it was a mess of estrogen that made my head spin. At one point I went into the kitchen where Tommy and Simon were eating and told Tommy I needed to be around testosterone, but he looked at Simon and himself and said, “You’re in the wrong place.” I couldn’t help but laugh my ass off.

Saturday afternoon was spent going to Vincennes to get the bride’s maids’ dresses fitted. To say that I wanted to run screaming from the ordeal is far too mild. After seeing my fatass self in that dress, I wanted to hack it from my body using an axe and not worry about also taking skin with it. The dress is cute on everyone else–but I look like a fucking apple or maybe a red pear. I hate it, and I hate it all the more because there was a time before the diabetic issues that I was thin and would have looked good in it. I hate the dress and I hate myself more. That was Saturday: an exercise in extreme self-loathing. If it weren’t for hanging out with Tommy Saturday night drinking and talking, I’d’ve just spent the night beating myself up over how much I hate myself. Thank you, Tommy!

Sunday was better though, thankfully. I got more hanging-out-with-Tommy time before the shower. I’m not good with crowds (they make me nervous) and so I was worried about having a panic attack at the shower, but I talked myself down, telling myself that I could just hide in the shadows and no one would notice me. After all, everyone would be staring at Sarah anyway. No one need notice me or the fact that I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt while everyone else was in business casual. Yet another pleasant surprise, that one. I don’t know where everyone got the idea that a family-oriented event had to become so formal, but I guess I missed the memo. It’s not like my family shouldn’t know by now that unless you specify “not jeans or T-shirt,” I’m going to wear jeans and a T-shirt. It’s just so unlike me to wear anything else unless told otherwise, after all. Goddamned stupid unwritten society rules with no purpose or meaning. I fucking hate fashion. So other than feeling like I should be an outcast for not conforming, the bridal shower went really well. Katie’s a genius and had awesome decorations and games, and everyone had a good time, even me once I quelled the self-loathing inside long enough to relax some.

The trip back to Terre Haute was long and boring, and I was exhausted by the time I got back. I played a little Sudoku and watched “The Fifth Element” with the husband before retiring early. Monday, we hit X3 with the Lushbaughs and Miller, and later we played some of my campaign since I missed DnD over the weekend. Apparently, during Saturday’s session, Kitty was yowling a lot at the back door, so much so that the gang didn’t think it was Kitty since they’d never heard her so vocal. Since that’s the door I always use, she was calling for me and missed me. She’s so sweet. I got a lot of good Kitty cuddle time in, and that helped me unwind from the weekend a bit. I’m still unwinding. I’m still trying to burn the image of myself in that dress from my mind. I think I’m going to need more alcohol for that one. A lot more. I hate myself.