The husband told me last night that one of my most endearing qualities is my ability to laugh at myself. I think this is extremely empowering to know.

I can pretty much tell any embarrassing story about myself to anyone through comedy. I can stretch the truth and exaggerate a story like nobodies business. I can diminish anything that has happened to me by making fun of it.

If someone were to ask me how I was doing, with this stuff (which almost never happens, since almost no one knows) I would–without a doubt–begin with a joke. Oh you know, I cried myself to sleep last night after eating everything on the menu at dinner. But it’s all good… I mean, I didn’t eat the menu, so that was a plus.

What I want to say is; I wanted to throw up last night, really badly. I was so full, and I needed support. Instead, I secretly cried for a minute and then secretly wrote about it. I guess this worked enough to fend off the actual behavior, but I still felt unsatisfied. It’s like I need someone to constantly tell me I’m ok.

I am ok. Right?

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