The Perfect Egg

Control. I am absolutely a control freak. I like to have control and organization to everything. Of course, that's where everyone likes to begin the teasing about me being OCD. That's Obsessive Compulsive Disorder for anyone who isn't aware. So, honestly, never been diagnosed as that but, absolutely, I have the tendencies. I just like things the way I like 'em and that's the way it's gonna be. Period.

However, when it comes to my life, I actually have about zero control. I clean, clean, clean to control my environment and I obsess about how clean it actually is or isn't - in my own eyes. But, all I have to do is stop for 10 minutes and I lose every bit of that control - two dogs, one kidlet, and a husband can mess things up faster than I can run into the room. Granted, I'm not fast but those small things that take 15 minutes to do turn into hours of cleaning for me.

Last year after discovering that my husband was once again hoarding our bills and personal documents, I took back control and organized everything into beautiful new file folders and purchased brand new filing cabinets for everything. It took me two months to sort through the mess that he had created, but I got it done and it was such a relief. I was so proud of myself. I had every piece of paper in our house organized so nicely and thought he was following along with my system after he paid the bills.

Well, Kindergarten registration comes along on my calendar and I run down to the filing cabinets to pull out the one document I still needed to take with me. Miss Fabulous' birth certificate. Easy enough, I run down to get it out of her nicely labeled file folder and....it's not there.

Of course, I'm frantic - that is NOT something to be misplaced! Not only that but there's a huge pile of filing to be done sitting on TOP of the filing cabinets. The husband is in Guam and my mother-in-law is visiting so I have to wait until after 11pm my time to speak with him (aka growl at him.) He suggested that maybe he put it in the file marked "personal" instead of her file. Okay, well, MIL is sleeping by that time and I can't check until the morning. You've got to know that I'm screaming inside my head but trying desperately to stay calm. I did not get to sleep easily with this on my brain.

I waited patiently for everyone to be awake and the minute I saw my MIL peak her head out, ran down the stairs to rifle through the cabs. The file marked "personal" is NOT in the cabinet. Where the hell is this birth certificate? I'm furious by this time and it's 1am in Guam and my MIL is right there, can't say anything, that's her son. Tick, tick, tick...messing with my files, not cool. My brain and stomach are ticking away all morning, I am so irritated but trying to be a nice hostess and mommy while my brain is starting to move in circles due to the agony of something not being right! I get ready and go over to register without my required paperwork and my daughter stays with her grandma. I felt like a complete failure.

On the drive over, I dial the husband's number on the cell phone and the minute I hear his voice I explode at him about this. Really partly his fault, it's 3am and his cell phone should have been turned off - not my problem. The message would have been much calmer. I walked into the school building with a fake smile and pretended to be the nice mom. The very wonderful registration lady was nice to me about the missing paperwork and told me to just bring it as soon as I can. Two days later the husband returns from his two weeks in Guam and after endless searching finally locates the birth certificate - filed under Property Taxes. I'm irritated beyond belief, but at least it's been located. So there ya go, all that work and I have no control of the files & paper & documents - yet again.

I don't have a job other than being mommy and I operate at the whim of Miss Fabulous, there's no control to a kid. She is her own person, a complete extravert. Because five year olds don't have the financial backing, I also don't get a check and have no income. The money all has to come from the husband. Currently he pays the bills (sometimes he even remembers and does it on time - have I mentioned how laid back the guy is???) but I have no idea when he pays them or what the online passwords are for any of our accounts - I'm only legally responsible for them. (Yes, ladies, I totally know this is dumb and it's not a choice that I've made, I'm working on it - enough said.) I swear this is coming to the point of giving me an ulcer or maybe it's just a mock ulcer or maybe it's just because I have egg issues and have been eating nothing but eggs.

Eggs. That leads me to the one single thing in my life that I actually do have control of. No! Not Eggs - you weren't really thinking that, were you? That'd be ridiculous!

My weight. After I went through the pregnancy and horrid delivery process of Miss Fabulous, I could not for the life of me get that extra weight off. I stopped eating for the most part, nearly killed a treadmill, and intentionally never sat for more than 10 minutes during the day. Well, I finally found a diet plan, did ridiculous research on nutrition (OCD, remember??? - regular folks have no idea what serious research is), and not only did I lose that stupid 20 pounds I wanted to lose, but my husband lost about 80.

He actually needed to due to sleep apnea issues and his desire not to carry an oxygen machine around with him on his various plane travels to the armpits of the world. He also was able to eliminate his need for cholesterol meds. Controlling your weight and eating healthy is a pretty cool thing once you get the tricks to make it happen.

So, I lost that 20 lbs and then I went further. I lost 25. Now it felt pretty darn cool to be 35 (at the time) and weigh less than I did in high school, and I was a great weight in high school. I LIKED the feeling so much! I was so much more energetic and I loved loved loved loved everything about trying on a Size 4 and having it be too big and having to go down yet another size. So now, I've been a two for nearly 2 years. I have heard the stupid comments about anorexia and people telling me I'm too thin and need to eat. I actually eat more than I ever have in my life. I also KNOW more about what I put into my body and how it will affect me. I know that my body really doesn't agree with carbs, if I eat them, I can count on 2 pounds gain in one day. NOT a good feeling for a control freak. I can eat ice cream and marshmallows and lose weight.

However, I don't yet feel perfect and I can see a few areas where I still need to improve the body. So, here come the eggs. It seems that eggs don't like me too much anymore, even though I adore them. Just after high school I gave myself salmonella poisoning (a fun trip to the emergency room confirmed this) from overindulging on eggs cooked over-easy in the microwave. Turns out you've gotta be careful with that. Who knew???

I seem to have developed a new allergy to eggs in the past six months. My stomach hurts so badly when I have eggs, but....they're low cal and fantastic protein and the benefits and temporary enjoyment currently overweighs the pain. I gave them up for about 4 months but I'm back, we just love each other until it hurts.

One friend said "if you hit your head on a wall, it hurts, so stop hitting your head on a wall." Yeah, but....I like eggs. I mean, I really like them! YUM!!!! I'm allergic to dust too, I don't avoid housework because of it, I work on cleaning and keeping it to a minimum and have a few hives at the end of the day from it. That's life, you take the good with the bad. It's not a severe life or death thing and if it helps me reach my goals and have a little control in my little world - I'm going to do it. In my OCD vision, there is only that issue of control and the new goal is either a size zero or to be able to look in the mirror and not see one speck of cellulite on my butt.

That's my life, I can only control this one little thing about it. So the incredible, edible egg and I are going to love each other until it hurts but I'm totally in control. There are actually those control top nylons that come in the egg shaped container - I wonder if that's a metaphor for my life or a symbol that's there to give me a subliminal message that I just haven't picked up on. For now, this is my life and we'll see where it goes from here.