Sex Education

Today, Tyra actually had a show that made me think. And about something other than Tyra, imagine that!

I know, I was just as surprised.

It was about when you should start educating your children about sex. As in, what age. Anyway, this one guest was driving her 5 year old daughter home after a sleepover at some other 5 year old's house, and her daughter told her that what's-her-face asked her to "kiss her cat." Naturally, the mom was super confused.
"Well, what did you tell her?"
"I said no, then she pulled up her pants and panties."

And now I have made the executive decision to never have children. I can't protect them child molesters, fires, Megan Fox, tornadoes, kidnappers, earthquakes, Disney, hurricanes, Google, volcanoes, thieves, tsunamis, wild animals, and their sex crazed peers. Too much. Too too much. Can't do it.

Thinking back, my mom never really really explained what sex was. I had an advanced reading level, and I blossomed early, so she gave me a book about periods and "becoming a woman." Well, I totally got the whole menstruation part, I just didn't get why. So I broke out the encyclopedia.

Sidenote: It's a super horrible idea to learn about sex from an encyclopedia. Especially if you're 9.

I think that might be the major contributer to my prudish nature. I spent the past 10 years being completely afraid of sex. I'm a little more open to it now (That's what she said.) but I don't like watching movies with awkward sex scenes, I don't like random guys checking me out or asking for my phone number, I don't like sexual innuendos (despite my love of 'That's what she said' jokes. Maybe not the sexual innuendos so much.) I don't like it when people are naked and whenever anyone tries to talk to me about sex, I start feeling uncomfortable and stabby, in that order. At any rate, I am less freaked out by sex since I want children and the other methods for getting children involve money and/or showing strangers my vagina. (Or was and wanted, since Tyra convinced me having kids is a bad idea.)

Hmm, I'm not sure where I was going with this so I'll just make this statement and be off: Kids today are freaks.

Pizza!

I've been trying to learn how to cook since I no longer have a meal plan, and I'll need to feed myself at my apartment. I've made lasagna, chicken tetrazini, putanesca, and pizza. The pizza is my favorite so far, but mostly because I loved making pizza dough.

Because I fail at reading and following instructions, I left out the whole wheat flour. I thought the first batch of dough would turn out funny. I just added most of the whole wheat flour while I was kneading the dough.

It looked exactly like the second batch though, so I guess they were both okay.

Dough after I punched it down. That's what the recipe said, "Punch down dough;" :)

This is pepperoni! The recipe said to put the pepperoni down first and put cheese on top, so it doesn't look like it. And since it's pepperoni and I'm kosher, I didn't taste it, but my sister said it tasted like Hot Pockets. I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not.

And because I could make any pizza I wanted, the second one is chicken and pineapple! I loved the pizza crust, but next time, smaller chicken pieces and more pineapple. I thought I'd get the whole chicken and pineapple pizza to myself because everyone else seemed put off by the pineapple bit, but it turns out, my dad's not that picky.

And Anthony, Angela might not be crazy. The recipe also included one for homemade pizza sauce, and it called for 2 tablespoons of mustard. The more you know!

Anyway, my mom says no more pasta/casseroles, so I need to work on this week's menu.

Mommy Dearest

I've decided that I could just write a book on the millions of ways my mother frustrates me. I think that might even be a genre because all of the "chic lit" books I've read are about frustrated mothers, frustrated wives, frustrated daughters, or a combination of the three. Since I'm unmarried with no children and living at home, the frustrated daughter definitely applies.

My current gripe: My mother refuses to buy me anything. Anything. Now I know better than to walk up to her and straight up ask for money or something like that, but when I ask for food or toiletries or basic things that most parents provide for their children that live at home, she tells me to get a job (And I am trying to get a job. I've been to Walmart four times and I've called twice because I refuse to go back to McDonalds.)

She keeps telling me that I'm in a "transition" period between adulthood and childhood, which really means that I can't do anything or get anything, apparently. It's like she expects me to be fully independent, living in my own apartment with my own job. Which I guess makes sense in her world since her mother basically kicked her out when she was 18. Her mother told her it was time for her to move out, helped her find an apartment, and helped her move out. But her mother also had 3 other children, all of which ended up being teen mothers. But really? I'm 19, a junior in college, and I have trouble working and going to school at the same time, so I've only had summer jobs working with fast food.

I don't know. I just feel like I'm disappointing her in so many ways. She played basketball and volleyball, and I don't get the point of running if I'm not being chased. I'm majoring in fibers, and I have no clue what to do with my life, and she tells me to get a job where I can make money (Obviously money isn't important to me, Mother. I'd much prefer to have my sanity which is why I'm not at McDonald's right now.) She laughs and/or calls me a Jew when I talk about Heritage, regardless of the fact that you can't believe in Jesus and be a Jew. She doesn't like white people, and I'm dating a white boy. She calls me fat all the time (Well, actually she tells me I need to exercise for "my health," points out how many calories things are when she sees me eating them, and lately she's taken to reminding me that Anthony is half my size when she sees me eating, but she might as well just call me fat.)

Maybe I am too sensitve. She always says that when I confront her about her being kind of bitchy. She says I can't take a joke, that I take things too literally, and that she's going to stop talking to me (which is also frustrating. If you know that I'm over emotional, why would you keep making fun of me?) But I would just like to not feel scrutinized and judged. And I want her to know that being a transitional adult sucks worse than being a kid because at least then someone would feed me without complaining.

Mostly, I just want someone to buy me razors and lotion because I only have $83 in my bank account and that makes me nervous. What if there's an emergency?

Acclaimed Author?

I want to write. (An actual book, that is. I feel the need to clarify since technically I'm writing at this very moment.)

I wanted to be a writer when I was younger. It really doesn't count for anything because I also wanted to be a nurse, artist, librarian, and ballerina. But I figured since I liked to read, I could write. People who can write usually love to read, but that road does not go both ways. I am a terrible author. I can't create characters. I make up people like Disney does (Maybe I could work for them. But seriously, every Disney series about a middle class girl with two best friends, one of which is dumb and the other is a boy that the main character or the other friend will eventually date. And then they make random middle school trouble that they could avoid if they were normal people. And even though she never has money or a job, she never wears the same outfit. We're very off-topic.) I cannot make a plot. Kind of parallel to my life. Actually, exactly like my life. Case in point: my blog was supposed to be a showcase for my artwork and fiberous things, but I rant about things and terrorize my boyfriend.

The point is, I've figured out how I'm going to make my mark on the literary world! (Aside from writing a young adult series about mermaids because mermaids are so the new vampires.)

I can write memoirs and autobiographies! Or just one autobiography because that's how that works. Because I'm best at being me, and people would totally pay to read about my past and my opinions.

Or maybe that's just how it works in my head. The real point is, be nice to me because you might end up in my book.

Now I just need to do something interesting...

Retraction

I'm retracting my answer to the above question.

Well, partially. I still don't believe that you don't have legitimate answers to my questions, but it's also because of how you answer questions.

Anthony, you answer questions like a politician. I ask you something, and you sidetrack and give an answer without really answering me. It's annoying when actual politicians do it, and it super-duper-mega-annoying when you do it.

It's not like I'm asking you to draw up a cohesive plan to achieve world peace or write a bill on legalizing marijuana. I'm asking you simple questions that should have simple answers, but you twist them and blow them out of proportion and half answer at best. So I feel the same way I do when politicians hold press conferences: like you're lying or hiding something.

But don't worry. If it's that difficult for you to legitimately answer a question, I won't ask you anymore.

Formspring

I got a formspring because I find it interesting. You can ask me stuff too! But I like my first question and it was asked anonymously.

The interesting part is the "different people/different priorities" bit.

I say all the time that Anthony and I are opposites. I think he's as opposite from me as possible without one of us wanting to kill the other (or probably without one of conceding, read: me.) Not that it's a bad thing. I would also kill someone who was like me. I like that I'm the frenzied control freak and Anthony is the calm voice of reason and logic. I freak out and yell, and Anthony reminds me that swearing and being anxious doesn't help anything. It's surprisingly balanced considering I have a potentially obnoxious personality.

Merriam-Webster defines priorities as 1) a preferential rating or 2) something given or meriting attention before completing alternatives. I googled how to set priorities, and the first step is to know your values (which I do) and to picture where you want to be in 5 years. I don't have a lot of foresight when it comes to my life, but I don't think that's a bad thing (how I handle it: anxiety, crying, panic attacks; that's probably bad, but as far as taking things as they come: not bad.)

My Priorities

1. To not get pregnant and have to move back to Ennis.
   This is actually my biggest fear. Pretty much everyone who grew up in this town ends up moving back. Not that it's always a bad thing, but I am bound and determined to not live here.
2. Get a job.
   One for the summer and one in Denton so I don't even have to move back to Ennis over the summer.
3. Graduate college.
   Simple enough.
4. Have a career that I enjoy (aka one that utilizes my fibers degree.)
   This one might not be possible.

See, this doesn't even seem like priorities as much as a to do list. I have no clue. I've changed my major once, and I'm looking for a minor. And seeing as how I don't know, I don't know how FC knows.

But thank you for saying I'm cute. I take all forms of flattery (unless you're a creepy old man.)

The Best Policy

Honesty is the number one thing women look for in relationships. Not me though. I definitely want a sense of humor and a belief in God first. Honesty is in the top five though. I don't want someone who walks around calling me a fat bitch all the time because that'd get real old fast, but if I ask a point-blank question, I want an answer.

So, I asked Anthony if he thought he's the Settler or the Reacher in our relationship. (How I Met Your Mother. Anyone?) And he ignored me and avoided answering the question. And the one things I can't stand is being ignored, it pisses me off. So I kept asking because I know he has an answer. Everyone has an answer, and the fact that he didn't answer and tried to equalize our status proves to me that he thinks he's the Settler.

Case in point: I asked my parents too. My mom said that she and my dad were equal partners and to do the dishes before she walked away; however, my dad said that he was the reacher. Just saying, if Anthony thought he was the Reacher, he'd have no problem singing my praises, but he didn't. So he thinks he's the Settler and that admitting so will only make me angry.

I picked him to be the Settler too. I mean, I only had to wait a year after admitting that I liked him for him to ask me out. I don't care that I'm the Reacher, I'm dating up. But the fact that he refused to answer, even after I kept asking makes me upset.

I'm an honest person. I have a blog on the Internet where I openly rant about people I hate and how I grow a mustache. It might also be a cowardly, but I tell the truth. So I expect the same level of honesty from everyone, especially someone I'm dating. Probably more so from someone I'm dating. I don't ask questions about things I don't care about, that applies to everything from math to the news to my relationship and I don't appreciate being ignored. David (my ex-boyfriend) did the same thing. I told him everything, but anytime I got too close, he pushed me away. I don't like being on the outside.

So I have more questions for you, Anthony. If you can't answer this stupid question, how are you going to tell me the truth about things that matter? If I have to wait for you deign to tell me things, what else are you going to think is unimportant? And did you honestly think I was just going to let this go?

Happy Father's Day!

Instead of paying attention in Sunday school, I drew this:

It's my sister, Brooklyn. Ignore her left hand. :)

To My Dearest, Darlingest Momsy and Popsicle

I don't smoke. I don't drink. I don't do drugs. I don't sleep around. I made straight As in high school, and I'm making Bs in college. I don't party. I've been "clubbing" twice, and that's with quotes because it was a gay club, and all I did was dance. I've volunteered at the library and the nursing home. This and last summer are the only ones where I haven't had a job (which I attribute to the falling economy.) And I went to church 3 times a week in Denton.

I have gone above and beyond to be the perfect child. So could I PLEASE LEAVE THIS HOUSE?

I do not care if you think me staying with Anthony is "inappropriate." I have spent the last 19 years being appropriate and it's gotten me absolutely nothing. How many times do I have to tell you that I don't believe in pre-marital sex? We are not sleeping together. And we won't. And stop patronzing me with that, "You don't know, things happen," bullshit. You were essentially nonexistent for the first four months of our relationship, and I didn't have sex. You won't be around when we're back together in Denton at 7 months, and I will still be a virgin. Your refusal to believe that I'm not some crazy slut when you're not around almost makes me want to be whore.

Why can't you see that I am literally dying here? You may be fine sitting around on the computer and watching TV all day, but I hate it. I am so bored. It's not my fault that no one will hire me.* Stop implying that I'm lazy or not trying hard enough. Other people aren't quitting their jobs, and consequently, no one's looking for more workers.

Honestly, if you would just fix my car a lot of problems would be solved. I have no friends in Ennis, I have friends in Denton. I want to go there. I NEED to go there. I don't care if it's $100. $100 should be worth me not crying myself to sleep at 11 AM.

That's right. AM. I am officially trying to sleep the boredom away. It works until 2 AM when I can't sleep anymore. There is absolutely nothing to do in this town. And I need my car to drive to places where things exist. I would fix it myself, despite the fact that my car might be totaled. I NEED TO LEAVE.

Lastly, stop saying, "When you're grown and have a job, you can do whatever you want." I know for a fact that that's not how adulthood works. I'm not expect to do whatever I want now. I just need to do SOMETHING, but you're not letting me because you aren't comfortable with the fact that I'm not 12 anymore. What you're really saying, "When you no longer live in our facist dictatorship, you can do whatever you want." AND I WILL. As soon as I'm on my own, I am doing everything I ever wanted and never, ever coming back here because you suck.

Love,
Essence


*I've officially decided to start applying to fast food places, despite the fact that I loathe to the very core of my being working with food. THAT'S HOW DESPERATE I AM TO LEAVE.

The Time Has Come

I hate to say it, but I have to start thinking about my future.


When I was in high school, it was easy. I could say, "I'm just a freshman! I have time to decide!" Slowly but surely, the years have been creeping up on me. Now I'm a junior in college. Do you know how terrifying that is? Your degree plan has to be sealed; everyone wants to know what you're going to do with your life. Especially if you tell them you're majoring in studio art with a concentration in fibers.


I hate it when people ask that. Mostly because I have no idea. I still kinda want to do fashion design, but I'm fairly mediocre at that. I could pay out the nose to go to a real design school that has to teach you because you're paying them, but a) I'm poor, b) I'd have to start all over, and c) Ironically enough, I chose UNT because I wanted a well-rounded education with lots of choices. Unfortunately, that means that the design program is competitive and also ironically, I hate competition. Call it the optimist in me, but I think art is subjective and that everyone should get a chance to do whatever they want (Education-wise. Murderers and child-molestors need not apply.)


I didn't get into the fashion program the first time I tried. I figured I'd just keep taking art classes and try again. But I took introduction to fibers (which is a required class for fashion design. Most of the design classes you need a code for, but you don't get the code until you get in the program. Which means I can't ever take pattern drafting, and that's the one class I really want.) I realized that that's the part I love. I like to create and craft and make something out of virtually nothing. So, I switched to fibers.



But now I have no idea what career that leads to. When people ask I just tell them that I'll be making baskets to sell at the Renaissance Fair (Sidenote: That would probably be a pretty lucrative career. Have you seen how much those people charge for their hand-crafted goods? I always want to tell them that if it really were the Renaissance, they'd probably only get a chicken for whatever they're selling, so they should put on bras and stop pretending that it's the Middle Ages, but then I'd probably be kicked out for being right.) My mother doesn't find this funny as I do. Then she starts nagging about how I need to plan for my future. I'm convinced that God will help me figure it out, but God helps those who help themselves right?

So I googled my major, studio art with a concentration in fibers (Mommy says I should say the full title because just "fibers" sounds stupid. I say people don't know what it is either way, so it shouldn't matter.) And I got this list of possible careers from the University of Saint Francis' website.

• Fine Artist - So, I don't think I could be a "fine artist." It reminds me of this comedian who said, "What if we all had to be the first thing we said when we were kids? I'd be a superhero-ninja-fireman." I said I'd be an artist, and everyone in my family laughed and said I'd be a starving artist.


• I'd actually love to work in a museum or gallery. It would be a steady job, and I'd be around art, but I don't see much potential for actually creating.


• Curator - I'm not sure what curators do, but wikipedia says they acquire and take care of art for museums. So it sounds like I'd be collecting art for pay which sounds cool.


• Art handler is another one I'm not sure about. I don't think I like it.
  
• Art buyer - All I know about art buying is that it was Charlotte's job in Sex and the City before she quit to be a wife*. I might just take this job so I can afford her clothes. Plus, according to every "Which Sex and the City Character are You?" test I've ever taken, I'm Charlotte. *This is super funny because I've never watched a full episdoe of Sex and the City. I don't know why I know these things!

• Consultant for whatever sounds fake. And like I'd have to talk to people.
• Visiting artist/ Artist-in-Residence is cool! I would create art for exhibits and stay wherever it's being shown. Like if I had a show in Chicago for June 1st - July 1st, I'd fly to Chicago, set up, go to the opening, do interviews, live in Chicago for a couple weeks while the museum pays for my room and board, and then pack up and fly to the next museum or home. Travel is definitely a plus.
• Designer is very non-descript, U of SF. I'm assuming fabric designer. I like this one too. But my mom pointed out that I'd have to take business and accounting classes because I'd be starting my own business. Unless I found another fabric designer to work for.
• Embroiderer/Weaver/Papermaker all sound like more Scarborough Fair jobs. Although, my mom suggested that I could embroider logos for companies. I think I pass on that one though. I recently read a blog where the bride couldn't understand why wedding invitations cost so much though, so making paper for wedding invitations could be lucrative.
• Studio Production Artist sounds like they're just adding words to 'artist' to make up for the fact that 'fibers' doesn't sound like a real degree; however, a google search determined that they set up things like window displays for stores or sets for photography. I could do that.
• Textile Stylist sounds like Designer so maybe I'm confused. But I did take a textiles class, and it was my only A besides marching band.
• Stationary designer. Once again, charging people for paper seems lucrative. And this one seems to require more creativity on my part.
• Wallpaper/Upholstery designer. Wait... People still use wallpaper?
• Educator - I've actually been interested in teaching for a while. I like kids, and I'm bossy and power hungry. I'm not sure what kind of teacher my fibers degree would make me though because we didn't have textiles or fibers at my school. Is that a class?

At any rate, it's nice to know I have a lot of random options. Also, UNT needs to make this kind of list for it's website. It's in 3 of the first page of options when you google "studio art with a concentration of fibers" but they offer no help in understanding what to do with said degree.

Also, I'm not done worrying, so expect at least one more blog where I talk about being a hobo.

One Way

I'm about 90% sure that my future roommates and I are not going to move into the house. We have to find someone to fill our lease at the apartment, and Cassandra had some friends who were apartment shopping but they're going in a different direction, and everyone's acting like Cassandra's friends were the only people looking for an apartment and making no attempt to find anyone else.

But it's okay because I'd have to cut some people into more pieces than Lord Voldemort's soul if we tried to move into the house. They're already bitching and pointing fingers and being passive aggressive ass hats.

Sidenote: If you say you don't want to be in the middle of my crap, don't promptly scold me like I'm your child and try to mediate. I'm more than capable of holding my own, and I don't need or want another mother. Comply with your own wishes and stay out of it.

As soon as I finish this lease, I'm moving into a one bedroom apartment. Who's idea was it for me to live with three other girls anyway? My art friend Victoria recommended her apartment complex. It's three blocks from school and $550 a month plus $60-ish for Internet and electricity. That's totally doable. Come to think of it, if anyone wants to move into a 4x4 apartment at Gateway, I'm open for breaking my lease and moving out this year.

I don't mean to sound like such a downer, I'm just really disappointed with people this year. My roommates, my parents, everyone who's not hiring me, my insurance company. I got into a little accident with a road sign in January, and the bumper of my car and the roof were damaged. Through some miscommunication with the collision repair people, the bumper was fixed and not the roof. I took my car back to have the roof fixed and it sat on the lot for two weeks without being fixed because the insurance company tried to say it was part of another accident. My dad and I had to meet some insurance guy at the site of my accident, with the police report and pictures, just to prove it was part of the same accident. Now we're waiting for him to call so I can take it back to the collision repair place. Major fail, State Farm, major fail.

One way.

I want to end on a more positive note, so I'm learning to cook as I will need to feed myself! I have two new cookbooks, one of which is a $7 meal cookbook that teaches you how to feed a family of four for under $7. That one requires a lot more prep work and buying of raw foods, but I like it. I made chicken tetrazini today. It was okay.

Which is code for: I'm so much better at baking.

I hope everyone else is having a better summer! Except you, Anthony.

An Open Letter

To all women:

Dear Fellow Woman, whoever you may be,

I don't care if you're being bitchy. I don't care if it's because you're PMSing or having a bad day or you're trying to be manipulative; I get it. As a fellow woman, I know it's in our nature.

That being said, if I catch you and call you out, admit it. Trying to pretend that you're oh-so-innocent and sweet and that you didn't do anything wrong is so passe. Also as a fellow woman, I know your secrets, I was invited to that meeting.

Just trying to help you save face.

Love,
Essence B.

P.S. - Saying "whatever" at the end of a verbal disagreement is also lame. I much prefer, "Essence, you're right. I was trying to be a beyotch, and you caught me. Your logic is infallible."

But that's just me.



Also, I found this when I googled "cat fight." I might get this printed up poster size.

Hoarders

Since I craft, I tend to collect stuff. It's just things I think I can use for a project or for decorating. Basically, useless crap. One of my biggest fears, besides dying by being hit by a car while I jaywalk and contracting skin cancer, is being a hoarder. Have you ever seen that show on A&E? It's all these sad people keeping what's essentially trash because they haven't taken care of it, but it's important to them. I almost always end up crying because part of me know how they feel about things they could use and things that have memory for them. The other part is sad because I'm probably going to turn into them. In an effort to not be a keeper of useless crap, I've been throwing things away. Today, I found this:

This was my most favorite shirt in the 4th grade. I wore it every chance I got. And I had to throw it away because it's stained and old and I don't fit into it anymore. I'll always remember that it's my favorite shirt even though I no longer have it. I'd like to say that it's been a moment of personal growth, but I did take a picture with it...

At least now I have this blog post and creepy picture to remind me of my childhood!

'Cuz That's Real Attractive

Is anyone familiar with the term "hairstache?" I thought I might have made it up, but I googled it to get a picture and there were fairly accurate results.

Behold: The Hairstache!

You pretty much just take a piece of the hair from your head and make a mustache. I know, it's not exactly groundbreaking or even that entertaining, but I happen to find it amusing.

Anyway, my hair's pretty much always been short. From ages 8 to 12, my hair was medium length, but I wore a ponytail all the time. I needed a new style so in 7th grade, I got it cut into a bob for school pictures.

Me at 12. I look exactly the same, right?

It's taken since then (7th grade to a junior in college) to grow my hair out to the length it is now. My profile pic for this site is even a little bit shorter. I guess moving away from home really spurred it, but my hair takes forever to grow. I think it has to do with relaxing it, but my hair is officially long enough to make a hairstache! I discovered this on the way to Anthony's house for his brother's graduation and was duly excited. I was still making a hairstache for myself in Anthony's house when the following conversation happened.

Me: (twirling hair) HAIRSTACHE! *hee hee*
Anthony: (tired of me being excited about nothing) "I think you just want a mustache."
Me: "I have one sometimes." (I do, but it's not my fault. I hail from an unnaturally hairy clan. It takes constant vigilance to make sure I don't look like a monkey, but obviously, he never noticed before.)
Anthony: "..."

Amazingly, he didn't break up with me then and there. I suppose that would have been awkward considering that I was staying at his house for three more nights, but I won't blame him if he changes his mind about me one day.

Such a Pretty Fat

One of the biggest reasons I hate staying at home is that my mother constantly talks about my weight. Ironically she, my sister, and I wear the same size. But that in no way stops her from picking on us.

Sure, that fitnessgram thing I got my senior year of high school said I'm in the overweight category, but I don't think I'm fat. The average size of an American woman is 14, so I maintain that I'm average. I think I could be more fit. I wish I had super toned arms ala the First Lady, but I don't like traditional exercise. I don't like going to gym, and feeling like people are watching you, and waiting for stupid machines. I like exercise that doesn't feel like exercise. I like dancing and swimming and hiking sometimes. Actual activities that happen to burn calories. But Ennis' summer recreation only provides dance classes for children and the pool closed down (I told y'all Ennis sucks.) I guess I could hike around Lake Bardwell except I'll work all day once I start. Besides, I'd have to go alone, and you're not supposed to hike alone.

The other interesting part is that I read an article in some magazine that did a study of sorts. It turns out that diet alone helps you lose more weight than exercise alone. And not diet like starvation or Atkins or anything extreme that requires you learning how to cook complicated recipes, just incorporating more vegetables and fruit and eating less bread and meat. In our house right now, we have 2 loaves of bread, bagels, tortillas, three different kinds of pasta (fettucini, spaghetti, and lasgna) and two different types of crackers and the freezer is full of meat. The only vegetables we have are frozen French fries, tomatoes, a wilted head of lettuce, and several cans of green beans, corn, and peas. We also have oranges. The point is, she picks on me for what I eat, but she's not providing much else. I ate a Maple every opportunity I got a school and they always had broccoli and squash. I happen to like fresh vegetables.

Anyway, yesterday she made me put back a bowl of animal crackers. She won't let me bake. She's driving me crazy. And she goes crazy if I say anything to her. She says I try and blame her for things and that I should take control of my own life (which is also ironic because the other day when she was lecturing me about going to Anthony's house, she told me that I'm not an adult and that I need her and Daddy.) But I'm totally blaming this on her because she should have let me become a ballerina or cheerleader like I wanted to. I'd probably have an eating disorder or something, but at least then she'd be bitching at me to eat.