“Yeah, that’s one burger, a large fry, and a milkshake. It will be there in about 40 minutes.”

I woke up at 4:30 a.m.

Starving.

If you would drop strangers in my kitchen and let them snoop around, they would swear they were in some dude’s house.  The fridge has an empty pizza box, bottled water, a few Gatorades, some cactus juice that I ordered from an infomercial at 2:00 o’clock one morning, a few soy sauce packets from my last delivery at China King, fat free milk, and some sort of orange cheese.  The cupboards are just as bad – a couple boxes of stale crackers, a can of chicken noodle soup for the next time I feel crappy, several hundred tea bags which makes it look like I’m preparing for a royal tea party, some random containers of pasta, and a box of Honey Nut Cheerios.

I did what any Girl Scout would do with that random selection.  I baked mac and cheese…and I added a soy sauce packet.

Before anyone sends me an email – no, I’m not preggers.

I can tell that I’m entering that late summer funk.  It always starts creeping up on me around the beginning of August. My already messed up sleep cycle gets worse and I have no shame for the trash I eat.  In fact, I’ve been secretly ordering Whopper Juniors with cheese and having Burger King deliver them to my apartment late at night.

I used to blame the funk on the fact that I was getting ready to go back to school.  Vacations were ending.  I had to get motivated for a new semester.  Change was inevitable.  The unknown was nightmarish.  Usually the funk wouldn’t go away until I had purchased all of my school supplies, had watched the first home football game, and had my first encounter with the “mean girls” who I would dream about tripping in the hallway.

As an adult, I still get the funk and I’m constantly looking for some magical unicorn that is going to lead me out of it.   Since the days of school supplies and home football games are over, I have found I can usually shake it off with a few weeks of eating junk, wearing something leopard print every day and talking it out.

Me:  “I’m entering that late summer funk.”

Manfriend:  [Silence]

Me:  “I just feel really unmotivated.  Kind of depressed, but not really depressed.  I want to feel more organized.  I want to feel like I’m accomplishing something.  I’m so afraid of change, but I also want change.  I want to stop eating crap in the middle of the night and maybe, just maybe, I need to get a hobby.”

Manfriend:  [Silence]

He doesn’t understand me.  He just sits there and looks at me.  Grrrrrrrr.  [Stomp Stomp Stomp to another room.  Slam door.  Pout.]

When I don’t feel better talking to Manfriend, I go and talk to my other friend.  When I say my “other friend”, I really mean my “shrink”.

Me:  “I’m entering that late summer funk.”

Shrink:  [Silence]

Me:  “I just feel really unmotivated.  Kind of depressed, but not really depressed.  I want to feel more organized.  I want to feel like I’m accomplishing something.  I’m so afraid of change, but I also want change.  I want to stop eating crap in the middle of the night and maybe, just maybe, I need to get a hobby.”

Shrink:  [Silence]

Whew.  I feel so much better.  My psychologist really gets me.  [Dig dig dig in handbag.  Find checkbook.  Write $300 check.]

Sometimes I leave Shrink’s office wondering if my money would have been better spent on a new pair of Manolos, but I feel significant comfort in knowing that if I pay for a friend, my conversations won’t end up as someone’s Facebook status.

STATUS UPDATE:  “My friend H is in a funk.  She looks suicidal…and fat.  I wonder if she’s pregnant.  Pray for her.”

Hello Friend.  I can read your FB statuses.  The fact that you posted this update beside of our self-portrait that we took at Dairy Queen makes people think you are talking about me.

I think if we were all a little more honest with each other, we’d learn that we all face the funk on occasion.  Even those liars who try to make everyone think they’ve got it all together, I know they too go through spells where they are questioning their choices in employment, relationships, and future plans.  I bet a few of them are even having greasy burgers delivered while they tell everyone they are vegan.

Isn’t it natural for all of us to feel uncomfortable once in a while?

Isn’t it completely acceptable that the very things we want also scare us to death?

One day I’m going to find the answers to my random questions.  In the meantime, I’m going to ride this funk wave out, fully loaded with carbs and wearing my favorite leopard print outfits.

Lady on the metro: “I really like your dress.”

Me:  “Thank you.”

Clearly everyone loves leopard print.

Lady on the metro:  “I bet you get a lot of compliments when you’re wearing an outfit that looks like a bird.”

Love, Heidi

xoxo