me vs. therapy

'how are you doing with your lent catastrophe?'

'clean and sober going on 4 weeks.'

'that's fantastic. feeling any different?'

'i'm angrier.'

'that's not possible.'

'oh haha. i'm doing alright. i'm definately saving money by not drinking diet coke.'

'unfortunately you're losing it on....?'

'water, crystal light and i've really taken a shine to cosmoplitans.'

'well, there's always next year.'

'what? i think i've been doing fantastic.'

'of course you have. so your birthday is tomorrow and by all accounts i'd wager a guess...without looking at my notes...that you'll be about 37.'

'you looked at your notes before i got here.'

'yes i did.'

'lying therapists...'

'excuse me?'

'nothing...well, i can't say that i'm ecstatic about it. but i guess being alive is a bonus, so i'm going to hold onto that.'

'37 isn't that old angela.'

'that's a lie.'

'hey, i'm trying.'

'how old are you?'

'that's not pertinent.'

'you know...as a birthday present from my therapist you could try and be a little fun and loose and interesting today.'

'yes, well our ideas of fun and loose and interesting are a little different.'

'so...you don't like strip clubs?'

'angela.'

'ok.'

'what are you going to do for it?'

'i'm going to sit at my desk and blink a lot when someone asks me to do something work related, stare at the clock, constantly check my fb page to make sure i'm getting more birthday wishes than my ex, and at exactly 4:29, because i want to be a rule breaker, i'm going to leave and go out with my friends and have a diet coke.'

'you're going to dissapoint baby jesus who suffered on the cross for you just because you feel owed your soda on your birthday?'

'yes.'

Look over at Satan. Satan glows, cracks open bottle of diet coke. Guzzles.

Look back at therapist, say; 'i feel old.'

'that's perfectly normal.'

'i don't want to be old. i don't want to be that dyke standing in the corner of the dark club with mom jeans pulled up to the belly button and deck shoes and short butched hair bopping her head to the beat while watching the young girls woop it up and dance and think that i should be home in bed reading instead.'

'you're only as old as you think you are.'

'i think i'm young. until i keep my leg bent underneath me for too long. or try to remember what i was trying to not forget to remember 2 minutes ago. or when i slip in the shower and have a vision of cracking my head on the way down and having to lay there for days like the blue-haired geriatric in the life alert commercials. or when i jog on the treadmill and need 2 days to recover because my hip feels like it slipped out of joint.'

'i'm pretty sure you're exaggerating a little bit, angela.'

'i'm fat.'

'you're not fat.'

'i'm wrinkled.'

'only when you smile.'

'i have grey hairs.'

'well, yeah you do.'

'you're a big fucking help.'

'reality. it's my birthday gift to you.'

'i'd like to return it.'

'there's no receipt.'