As others said...you're gonna be 41 anyway, some day. (OTOH, if you don't go to med school, you might be a better-rested 41)

And I third/fourth/eleventh all the self-loathing comments. It continues to amaze me how sometimes I can look in the mirror and be all "yeah, I'm hot! I look gooooood! Who wouldn't want me?" and like, an hour later look in the same mirror, and really know in my head I look the same, but instead be all "I'm fat and funny shaped and my hair is frizzy and my skin is bad and no one would want to see me naked and even if anyone saw me naked they would be disgusted!" I mean...same me! Same mirror! CRAZY brain.

Course, I also wonder how crazy you need to be to have therapy. Cause sometimes I think I'm pretty well balanced (especially when I think about SOME of the whackjobs I've known in my life, most of whom feel no need for therapy!) and therapy would be a waste of money and time, and sometimes I think I'm surely seriously fucked up and will never be normal.

Nurse Practitioner, Trudy

Peanut butter? Oatmeal? Chocolate chip? Whatever you want sweety.

Oatmeal chocolate chip would be sweet. It's a particular favorite of mine that I can never find/get. Ah, if wishes were horses.

I also wonder how crazy you need to be to have therapy

See, I think that's the wrong question. I realized (on my own) in junior high school that I needed therapy, especially to deal with the stuff about my father, but when I finally worked up the nerve to approach my mother about it she said, and I quote-from-memory, "That sort of thing stays on your permanent record." WTF? What permanent record? But my mother has always been very wary about things like that. It didn't stop me from enrolling my first semester of college with counseling services, though. But I'm not, well, crazy. Not at all. I was circumspect and realized I was running in circles around issues that would take more than me to resolve. And I knew going it that it would be a long-term process.

Strangely, it's usually alleviated when I go abroad.

Anyway.

Trudes, so far I only recall you and Hec commenting on my magnatism. I keep expecting to walk by the fridge and have all the magnet suddenly jump ship and attack me.

Did I mention I have a new iPod? I am loading songs as I type this! Yay!! doing the happy dance

Oh, C's ice cream cake was an interesting creation and totally sugar loaded. I had less than half a piece before I hit the sugar wall.

Nurse practioner would be my guess, Trudes.

Yeah, when you're in that self-hate place, it's never as easy as being reassured. Because sure, of course they'd say that, and it's because they don't want to hurt my feelings or, more often, they just don't know me well enough, or they'd see what a fucked up loser I am. Awful.

And I am off to drive to the Miami airport. Yay!

I realized (on my own) in junior high school that I needed therapy, especially to deal with the stuff about my father, but when I finally worked up the nerve to approach my mother about it she said, and I quote-from-memory, "That sort of thing stays on your permanent record."

My mom spent a great deal of effort trying to get me into therapy.

Um, it occurs to me that could be taken wrong - I meant in the good way.

Nurse Practitioner! Yes!

I'll look into that too, actually. It has its own merits to be sure.

I'll look into that too, actually. It has its own merits to be sure.

Like getting the nurse outfit for free.

Like getting the nurse outfit for free.

Thus making it easier to trick vampires into thinking you're a robot.