Stress Eating

Oh my fucking Buddha.  I love Mother, I really do, but I yelled at her constantly tonight.

She hasn't asked for computer help in a while, but today she was kind of in a tizzy after I came home because she wanted to download something and she alleges a bunch of programs all of a sudden popped up on her computer.  Or something.  Mother wasn't that specific on what happened.  She usually isn't -- which is the problem.

Mother wanted these programs that "invaded" her laptop, her old laptop, gone after I got done eating dinner last night.  This is an OCD My Fucking Father usually wants done, but for some reason tonight was Mother's time to flip out over superfluous shit.  But at least she knows that there is an "Add/Remove Programs" window she needs to go to.  What she did and said next just pissed me off.

I don't use that computer.  Well, I did while my laptop was in the shop, but not now.  So I don't know what these programs are.  Apparently, neither does Mother, because she clicked on one of these programs that took up space on her lap and asked me, "What's that?"  And I think it was Adobe or something, and since there are many .pdf files I know she will need to see, I told her to not remove that.  But then she goes onto the next one and goes, "What's that?"  And this was a program I've never heard of, so I told her to remove it.

Now, imagine your mom asking you, "What's that?" -- those two words, in Chinese as well as English -- for 45 straight minutes, for every single goddamn program that's on her screen.  It truly was like taking a kid shopping at Target with you: She wouldn't shut up.  All she did was repeatedly, incessantly ask me, "What's that?  What's that??  WHAT'S THAT?!?!?!".  And, well, you can probably guess I was soon screaming at her, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS!!!"

On top of that, because My Fucking Mother was on this goddamn cleaning jag (on her computer at least) she kept asking me, "Can we remove that?"  Soon she followed up asking "What's that?" by then asking, "Can we remove that?" for every single goddamn program.  "What's that?  Can we remove that?  What's that?  Can we remove that?  What's that?  Can we remove that?"  I was already set off by her asking me, "What's that?"  But the thing about "Can we remove that?" that pissed me off was the word, "we."  I know she can't help it because English is not her native language, so her use of subject will always be slippery.  But saying "we" to me in my already frustrated state made me believe that somehow I was responsible for putting these strange programs I've never heard of and My Fucking Mother has never used on her laptop.  So finally -- well, I think it must've been the second or even the first time -- I went, "I DON'T KNOW IF WE NEED TO REMOVE THAT, I DON'T USE YOUR COMPUTER!!!!!!"

Then after 45 minutes she was done.  Remarkably, she didn't raise her voice at me.  I hope she understood how she pissed me off.  But once she shut off her computer (and I hope to fucking God I won't have to help her with these programs tonight) she told me there was coffee cake.  No thanks, Mother, I'm going to have Doritos instead.

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Oh, I need to write to my title.  Yeah, in the middle of Mother pissing me off, I thought, "Man, after this bullshit I'm going to eat some Doritos."  And I then had a flashback to the time My Fucking Father pissed me off when he fucking ordered me to write down every single goddamn expense at my parents' fucking real estate properties while they were in Europe.  (He reminded me of doing that a few weeks ago too.  Yeah, good luck with that.)  After I got off the Skype with him I immediately opened up a bag of Gardetto's because of all the stress he fuckin' gave me.  Same thing last night.

But I knew, both times, that I was going to overindulge and get fat and feel guilty afterwards, but goddammit, I needed that after the bullshit they put me through.  Same thing here, although I also ate because Hawaii Five-O was on on a special Wednesday night.

Fell asleep a bit past 8, woke up a bit past 2 and had that pit in my stomach that tells me, whoa, I ate too much.  I like Dorito's, but I ate through three-quarters of the bag -- awesome I can still do that, I guess, but the me from 20 or even ten years ago would have been able to sweat off the extra pounds I got from eating it.  Not anymore.

I need to stop this.  My parents are going to piss me off, but I can't react to that by stuffing my face.  At least not anymore.