During the worst three years of my life, also known as middle school, my mom went to visit her sister in Seattle for a couple days. Us four loving daughters brimmed with anticipation as Mama Everythingtarian stepped through our dingy gray garage door and arrived back on home turf – partially because I am sure we had in fact missed our mom but also because we knew she had come bearing gifts.
Yes, gifts. Thankfully, she was not bearing a fifth daughter.
With my extreme adolescent insecurities raging at an all-time high (my button-down, collared denim jean shirt didn’t help the situation), you can imagine my utter disbelief when my mom presented me with my gift: a t-shirt sporting this lovely logo…
“I thought of you when I saw it,” Mama Everythingtarian said laughing. “Isn’t it funny?”
“Funny? You call this funny? Mom…I am NOT a drama queen! I have no idea what you are talking about. I mean, is this seriously how you think of me? I should have known better – I always knew I was your least favorite daughter!!!”
I huffed and puffed.
I stomped down the stairs.
I slammed my bedroom door shut.
And I buried my frizzy afro in my pillow.
Take that mom.
And yes, more than 12 years later, I see the irony in that situation.
Perhaps it is true…I am a bit of a drama queen. I make mountains out of molehills. I like to freak out about things that really have no bearing whatsoever on my life. Occasionally, I will cause a scene and blame my older sister for all my personal issues, because she forced me to dance to George Michael’s “I Want Your Sex” instead of giving me The Real McCoy’s “I Saw the Sign” growing up.
I mean, it’s not dramatic if it’s the truth.
Anyways, throughout the years, I’ve realized I expend way too much energy on being dramatic. Quite frankly, if I continue at this rate much longer, my brain may turn into mush. Hopefully, if that is to happen, it will be banana mush.
Thanks to reader Ashley (hey lady!), I can officially say I am in love with heated banana mush. Specifically, banana mush cooked in the microwave for 20 seconds before being smothered on AB+J toast. And I’m not being dramatic about that at all.
What I can be dramatic about is that I ran 3 miles with Brett this morning at 6:45am (okay, it was more like 7am – I was late) and could not muster up even an ounce of Everythingtarian energy to pack a lunch using the measly amount of food and pantry items left in my apartment.
I mean, isn’t working out supposed to GIVE you energy?
I digress, out of purely dramatic reasons of course.
- green peppers
- banana peppers
- cottage cheese
- broccoli salad
- 1/2 hardboiled egg
- sunflower seeds
- cucumber yogurt dressing
If the worst thing I do is go out to eat a ridiculous amount this week, then I guess I am doing okay.
I could have been dramatic and taken an obnoxious picture in front of 20 people of the absolutely DELICIOUS slice of lemon raspberry cake I ate in honor of my friend/co-worker Casey’s birthday. But I didn’t. I told you I’m making progress with this whole drama thing.
Earlier today, I stopped by the opening of an art display in the building where I work and was greeted with an unexpected Indian buffet. It was too good, so I HAD to share with you what I ate somehow…
It’s okay – you can call me Picasso. I don’t think that’s a dramatic statement whatsoever.
When I got home this evening, I was still less than impressed with my sad-looking pantry. Pondering deep life thoughts, I stood in front of my beat-up IKEA shelf and wondered what meal would be the best metaphor for where I am at in my life right now.
I needed something unexpected…something with a deep-seeded streak of angst…maybe an ingredient to represent the inner turmoil one faces when attempting to make big things happen…and perhaps it should have a touch of positivity?
- granola = crunchy, inner turmoil
- mushed banana = an act of angst
- organic skim milk = the finishing, unexpected touch
- peanut butter = positivity
What? Me, dramatic? Never.
Give me a denim, button-down shirt, play some George Michael and place me in a white, padded room with one of my sisters…then we’ll talk.