I am now, and have been for a few weeks, utterly uninspired.

I should have a thousand things to write about. It’s Christmas, for fuck’s sake. I should be writing posts about the twinkling in my daughter’s eyes as she takes in the joy and wonder of the season. Or waxing poetic about the magical glow of the lights on my Christmas tree. Or writing posts with step-by-step instructions on how to make a snowman out of fucking Dixie cups or some equally Pinnable shit like that.

I should be spilling my guts here. It’s the first anniversary of a traumatic experience; my emotions should be flowing forth from my fingers as they frantically peck away at the keys, trying to keep up with the words that are trapped in my head.

Instead, I’ve been opening up my laptop and staring at a fucking blinking cursor, willing myself to write but finding my word well completely dry. I feel like I don’t have the energy to come up with ANYTHING. I don’t feel depressed but the thought of writing anything now (besides this, obviously) just seems impossible.

I go through dry spells like this. It makes me wonder how the hell big bloggers constantly generate content that attracts readers. WHAT IS YOUR SECRET? I wonder if all bloggers feel this way from time to time, and how they get past it. Blah.

I’m trying to lose weight again. I went to the doctor the other day for a wellness checkup and to get some moles looked at (which earned me a dermatologist referral, by the way) and when I stepped on the scale, it screamed and inexplicably caught on fire.

Okay, that didn’t actually happen but the number did read the same as it did THREE YEARS AGO when I gave birth to my daughter. Want to know what that number is? Of course you do. That number was 209. TWO HUNDRED AND NINE POUNDS. I am five-foot-three. THAT IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS. I mean SERIOUSLY. Luckily everything else about me was healthy. Excellent cholesterol, blood pressure, blood sugar and all that jazz. I’m just a goddamn lardass.

As of now I am doing well tracking my calories, and am doing better with exercising. I am trying to take it one day at a time.

I feel muted. I want to think and talk about this time last year and I also don’t. So much contradiction.

I’ll be funny again soon, I promise. Hopefully. Maybe.