How did one of Facebook’s most dedicated users and fans come to take a
break? It all started this past spring when I learned that I’d gained 3 pounds. I know you are thinking that 3 pounds is nothing, but it is not nothing when the 3 pounds is added to someone who is 5 feet 2 inches, shrinking fast and who had already reconciled the FIVE pounds that menopause gifted her. So, it wasn’t just 3 pounds, it was more like TEN, if you’re rounding up, like a third grader.
I couldn’t do any of those butt-kicking workouts with Jillian Michaels to lose the extra 3#s, because I was going into severe back spasm each time that complete fatherfuckingwhackjob led me through an exercise routine with “her girls.” <— the 2 grown women behind her; not her breasts. As it turned out, I couldn’t even do a lateral move without hurting myself. So, it was daily walking to control the pain+spasm and I don’t know about the last time YOU tried to lose weight via walking+menopause, but it is about as easy as trying to convince someone that a person “high up in the Vatican” is following you.
So, the first thing I did was what every self-respecting female who’s been jacked up on mood-controlling, don’t-bite-the-kids’-heads-off meds for 5+ years: I went off my anti-anxiety pills.
Now, anti-anxiety meds are a great invention for thickening one’s cheesecloth-like skin that, for decades, has let EVERYTHING in. It creates this shield around your entire body, protecting you from bitchez and also from some Serious Bitchez. The problem is that the new layer also happens to be PHYSICAL. Hence: weight gain.
But even worse is that the added “layer” ALSO covers your vagina, which — last I checked — includes the clitoris, meaning that I wanted to have sex about as much as I wanted to have a Rhode Island Tesla driver run me over in a still-needs-to-be-painted crosswalk on my way to a Yacht Club party involving drunken WASPs and wife swapping, which is to say, for those of you just joining us — never.
Once off the meds, everything started depressing me, Facebook the most. So I stopped posting. Well, okay, I had my husband change my password for me. Hello! I was completely addicted to that guy!!
But guess what? I started feeling better! The depression abated and I became much more FOCUSED. I even started Thinking Ahead. I was like the love child of Martha Stewart and Thich Nhat Hanh.
What’s going on now? I thought I’d go back on Facebook after we got back from our summer trip, but one dip into my Newsfeed had me shutting that fucker down faster than a southern republican on his state’s last abortion clinic. I could tell you a gagillion things that bug me about Facebook right now, but it’s not Facebook. It’s me! So, Facebook and I will continue to take a break AND if it wants to sleep with 250 million other people while we’re on a break, that’s okay by me.