Speaking of Irrational Concerns About Weight Gain

Catherine here again in what had better be the last post of the evening (when it rains it pours, people). I drove a friend to the airport last week, and on the way back got stuck in horrendous traffic, the kind of traffic that makes you want to kill yourself, even though you're completely content with pretty much all areas of your life and have no reasons whatsoever to harbor suicidal tendencies.

And as I was sitting there in a traffic jam that stretched from the Cesar Chavez exit all the way to the Bay Bridge (I don't know how far that actually is but it took an hour and a half), I realized several things:

a. one can only listen to Green Day's "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" so many times before suicidal tendencies are trumped by an extreme desire to smash one's car radio

b. there is nothing more depressingly American than sitting alone in your car listening to Green Day, among hundreds of other cars in which people are sitting alone listening to Green Day, spewing exhaust into the fresh air on their way to the suburbs

c. I have extreme problems with suburbia (to be detailed when I'm not so tired)

and d. traffic makes me feel fat. It's one of those irrational things where, no matter what I've done that day, or what I have or have not eaten, sitting in a car for more than 30 minutes makes me convinced that I can feel my butt getting bigger. I know that sounds very shallow and teenage girly to say, but it's true. In fact, sitting at a computer can sometimes have the same effect. Which is why I'm going to end this.