Not empty in an angsty way, more empty in the sense of "having the capacity to be filled with treats." (I'm a loozah. That's Bostonian for "loser.") As far as the treats are concerned, they came and they didn't. My treats are small, so your average day-chalice can hold a lot of them, and I think it would really spoil things if it was ever completely filled. Yes, I keep candy in a chalice. Everything should be kept in chalices.

Days, days, days ... All of them are filled with treats, really, some of which are yummier than others. Not everything can be a gummy grapefruit. Sometimes you get a circus peanut or a Necco wafer thrown in the mix, but you say "thank you" anyway.

I don't have to worry about spillage, however, as I think my day-chalice has a hole in the bottom. So something goes in, rolls around from the lip to the base, and trickles on out to make more room for other things.

Now that I've pommelled that metaphor to a bloody pulp ...

Yesterday was not exciting. It was delightful, and disappointing, and small. The most beautiful and undisturbed weather possible, clear skies, sunshine, breeze, such a blank slate you forget there's a separation between earth and sky. Your only reminder is the wind.

I left work early to go to my first check-up with a new doctor. I was all excited, because my new HMO includes doctors of Natural Medicine, so I booked my appointment with a chiropractor/general practitioner natural doctor thingy, and left work after lunch to go get checked up. It's always nice to get out of work early. Into my chalice a Hershey's kiss was dropped.

As for the doctor, I don't know what I was expecting. I was a little apprehensive that, seeing how she's a chiropractor, she was gonna knock me face-down onto her table contraption, straddle me, and re-align me beyond recognition. Actually, I don't know if that possibility was scary so much as intriguing. Might be nice to walk out of her office 6 inches taller with the posture of a princess.

I had this blurry image of what a "alternative medicine practitioner" would be like, which is unfair, but I sort of hoping she would be, like, a hippie, or maybe a supersmart anti-establishment lady with a biting sense of humor. I was at least hoping she would be nice. She wasn't un-nice, I guess... She wasn't anything, really. One's doctor, you'd think, because he/she deals with patients, right, is likely to be a "people person." OK, so I've dealt with a number of dermatologists whom I distinctly disliked. But at least they left me with some impression.

My new doctor? I've never met a woman so completely devoid of personality. Maybe my opinion will change. In all fairness, this was our first meeting, and maybe she was trying really hard to be professional. But, I tried to engage her in real conversation ... I don't think she was really listening. She gave curt, perfunctory answers, and though I asked her about herself and was genuinely friendly, asked me nothing about myself. I cracked a few jokes ... no reaction. Not even a polite smile in recognition of my failed attempts at humor. Coollllld. Her saving grace was that she has beautiful home-photos of her 3 lovely little kids all over her office, and they exhibit an impressive artistry and tenderness on her part. So, maybe she's not a zombie. Maybe just a well-programmed android.

She doesn't move her jaw when she talks. She's incredibly skinny. I told her I'd like to lose weight, she told me I couldn't eat bagels. I told her that cutting out whole food groups drives me insane, that I have a history of eating disorders, and she repeated that I shouldn't eat bagels. Yeah, I know that the whole glycemic index thing is true, that carbs jack up your insulin level which is unhealthy and makes you fat, but I'd rather learn balance and preference than cut whole items out of my diet, especially when those items have healthful properties.

Docdroid didn't seem to give a shit about that. I don't know if she wasn't listening, or if she thinks I just don't know what I'm talking about ... I mean, yeah, she is the professional, I can't deny that she knows her shit even if she has the disposition of a cubicle ... I don't know if it registered when I said I was kind of food-crazy; maybe she was trying to be sensitive by not calling attention to it, maybe she didn't believe me, maybe she was just trying to be objective and rationale and clinical. I mean, I don't need to be coddled, but some flicker of compassion from my doctor would be rather encouraging.

I think she's an armchair anoretic and was inwardly scoffing at size-12 me for claiming to have something in common with her and the ranks of the divinely emaciated.

Oh, I'm sorry. That was mean and bitter and judgmental. I just felt very invisible and disrespected.

I know, she's the doctor, and I'll try to heed her advice. To a point. But I refuse to drive myself crazy by completely avoiding carbs, high insulin level be damned.

Another thing: This woman has no ass. I mean, NO ASS. She's practically concave in back. I don't know what connects her legs to her torso ... I saw no evidence of flesh or other connective tissue. I've seen skinny people before, but there was alway some kind of cushioning, at least for the sake of proportion. My doctor doesn't even have any contour suggesting the presence of a pelvis.

Perhaps her interest in medicine was developed because she, herself, is such a marvel of bizarro anatomy. Perhaps her manufacturers at the robot factory forgot a step in the assembly line. I'm being unkind again. Perhaps her ass disappeared into the same black hole of oblivion that sucked up her personality. Maybe she'll warm up. Her children are beautiful. But, I suppose Stepford children have to be, or they'll be destroyed.

GOD! Stop it.

OK, so that was that, I was disappointed, and my Hershey's kiss melted and trickled out the hole in the bottom of my day. I wandered around outside, grabbed dinner, looked over my monologue, and went to my acting class.

AH! COMPLETE DIGRESSION: THERE'S A BIG THUNDERSTORM RIGHT OUTSIDE MY WINDOW! KAPOW! Everyone say hello to Thor ...

"... Hello, Thor."

Yay. Anyway, so ...

This week, each of us chose a monologue from one of the 4 plays we read for class, so some of us ended up doing the same monologue. The first woman to perform for the class was this petite, beautiful little girl, who of course chose the same monologue as I did. Great. And she was good. Interpreted the monologue different than I, but she was definitely good.

Fabulous. After an afternoon of being made to feel fat and worthless by my doctor, I had a very tenuous grasp on my self-esteem and was torturing myself observing how much bigger and weirder-looking I am than all the other women in my class, but then I told myself to stop being such a fucking drama queen, enjoy myself, and be a good audience member and helpful classmate, and whaddayaknow? I listened to me.

Into the empty cup tinkered a handful of candycorn.

So everyone did their monologues, la-dee-da, everyone was good ... I was the last to perform, and didn't know what to expect of me.

But, man? I fuckin' nailed it.

GODIVA! Plop in the cup. Such a big truffle, it plugged up the hole.

On the way home, I rode the train with a guy from my class, and the girl who first performed my monologue (the object of my rash, petty, shallow jealousy). She is very sweet and genuine, and I'm going to a play with the guy on Saturday. The people in my class are wonderful. New friends.

Before going home I met friends at a pub to celebrate Lynne's birthday. I just love that woman. She's an angel. It was a brief visit, because everyone else had been there all night, but it was still lovely.

So I went to bed with a chalice holding a modest amount of quality goodies, and a belly holding a little bit of Lynne's vegan birthday cake. Hey, man, you'd be surprised at how good that stuff is. Happy.

I don't know if you've ever noticed, but if you say the word "chalice" too many times, you kind of want to hit yourself.

May your days be empty.

~ Last Five Entries ~

Moths, and Relative Nonsense - 08.18.05

I Finally Have Internet Access in my Bedroom. But, No Ashtray. - 08.09.05

Here I Am - 08.02.05

One-Armed Paper Hanger Earns her Wings - 07.29.05

Sugar & Lemon - 07.28.05

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BUY JEN'S BOOK! BUY IT! DO IT!

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BUY DEAN'S BOOK, TOO! YOU KNOW YOU WANNA! SERIOUSLY.

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