"Mothers are all slightly insane."-J. D. Salinger
Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word happy would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness. It is far better take things as they come along with patience and equanimity.
I feel “fat” if I can’t master a task at work. I feel “fat” if I can’t please those I love. “Fat” is how I blame myself for my failures. “Fat” is how I express my anxieties. A psychologist once told me, “Fat is not a feeling.” If only it were that simple. As for so many women, the pathology of self-loathing is permanently ingrained in me. I can give in to it, I can modify it, I can react against it with practiced self-acceptance, but I cannot eradicate it. It frustrates me to consider what else I might have done with the years of mental energy I have wasted on this single, senseless issue.
Peggy Orenstein, Cinderella Ate My Daughter
Lana: You want to see crazy?
Archer: No I’ve seen that movie, and, spoiler alert, it ends with a closet full of my suits on fire.
Lana: I wish you’d been wearing one.
Archer: Who would want to wear an on-fire suit? !
Lana: Cosplay enthusiasts!