Getting into the Routine

I went to see The Penguin on a Monday afternoon to discuss August's diet charts. Nevermind the fact that I've been trying really hard to get some exercise done and that I've finally found and joined a gym and am swimming every morning, The Penguin (I call her that because she reminds me of that sadistic nun in The Blues Brothers and she goes by the title of Sister Erwynn) does not like the fact that I ate a Snickers bar one day and had a full bottle of rum last Saturday. I tried to explain that last Saturday was a really bad, catharctic day (without giving too much away - none of her fucking business what really goes on in my life) but she was snitty and sniffy and on a very high horse. I left in a thunderous mood. It's all right for these failed med students to tut-tut us poor BBWs about our eating habits. I'd like to see her power through 28 laps around the pool in as many minutes, the sodding old cow!

Anyway, last weekend was interesting. I went to see the shrink (we both see her once a month or so, depending on the situation). I really needed to see her. I was beginning to come undone, snapping at everything and everyone and she picked apart my brain and emotions. It was like she trawled across my memories and held them up for inspection. God, I never cried so much in one session. It hurts and stings just thinking about it. She was horrified when I told her some of the stuff from my past. I've become so used to it (having discussed it with 2 other shrinks back home). I haven't told her everything (some just didn't come up at that time).