A couple of bits of business before I tell you about the terror I’ve been unleashing on the world this week.

First, have you fed some dogs and cats yet? Kathie, Marianne, Pam and Allison have. What’s your excuse?

Second, I have been inundated with blog spam of late. Luckily, I’ve got a good spam-catcher. Unfortunately, it also catches messages for first-time commenters. If you’ve left your first comment recently and it hasn’t appeared in a prompt manner, it’s because I’m weeding through all the ads for litter boxes, fake designer handbags and garden fountains.

Third, Wilco just added a third St. Louis show. Not that this has to do with anything, aside from the fact that I’m reaching a level of excitement that might not be conducive to me doing anything else for the next two months.

Fourth, I’m on the verge of getting that food blog I’m doing with OtherRobin up and running. Hopefully by the end of today.

And now, that reign of terror I’m wielding. Don’t worry – it’s a fun reign of terror.

I had my annual physical yesterday. Since my panic and anxiety issues have decreased exponentially since the move last June, I haven’t seen my doctor in nearly a year. I think that might be a record. It seems that all of my parts are in good working order, (”What do you mean, you’re not having anymore kids? You’re going to let that perfectly good uterus go to waste after all the hard work I did to make it function? You bitch!” Not my doctor’s exact words, but not much of an exaggeration, either.) Even though the scales tipped at a number that the media would have you believe would leave me bedridden, suffering three heart attacks a day, and I have a condition that often causes uncontrollable weight gain, all of my systems are in good working order. We had a conversation that went something like this:

Doc: Your weight is always stable, aside from a very gradual, steady loss of a few pounds every year. How are you doing that?

Me: I dunno? A diet that’s a good balance of healthy food and dip?

Doc: And you’re blood pressure is always a perfect 120/74 even though you haven’t taken blood pressure medication in years. How are you doing that?

Me: I dunno. Beer?

Doc: Your pulse rate is excellent for anyone, and rare for a person of your size. How are you doing that?

Me: I dunno. The exercise I got while shaking my boobs at karaoke on Saturday, maybe?

Doc: Your heart sounds excellent. How are you doing that?

Me: I dunno. Lack of use?

Doc: Know what? There’s not a damn thing wrong with you. I don’t expect to see you for another year.

Me: I know.

So I’m that person the media and diet industry loathes – I’m *gasp* a healthy fat girl!

Yeah, I could be in better shape. I’m not going to be running any marathons. Some friends of mine are participating in a triathalon this summer. My participation will involve sitting in a lawn chair in front of the Mars Cheese Castle, eating a chunk of 6-year cheddar and drinking Bell’s Beer while cheering my sweaty pals. But still. I wouldn’t collapse if I had to participate. Well, I might collapse, but I probably wouldn’t end up hospitalized, which is pretty damn good, don’t you think?

So, in regards to my health, Queen Latifah and her diet ads can kiss my huge ass.

But then today, there was a smidge of ugliness upon taking Clara Jane to school. A lot of the local schools are on spring break right now, which means a lot of parents are dropping the little kids off at preschool with the bigger kids in tow. When I was getting out of my truck, a minivan pulled into the spot next to me. Every single door opened, and eight-year-old mud-splattered boys poured out like clowns from a VW at the circus. Just about as terrifying, too. How the hell can they be that mud-splattered at 9:30 AM when there’s not any splatterable mud in the area? There was one adult in charge of oh, I don’t know, I’d estimate about 289 boys and one toddler.

I took Clara Jane to her classroom then headed to the office to sign her in. While doing so, I noticed the one adult – a skinny little blonde woman in full makeup, cute outfit and spangly beaded flip-flops, chit-chatting with a cute dad while the 289 boys body slammed each other. Which is a slight exaggeration, but you know that when you have a a pack of exuberant kids you’re only a few seconds away from some body slamming at any given moment. I was none too thrilled about having to navigate through them on my way out, but so what? They’re kids. I’m a parent. I win.

Well, not really. Instead, they planted themselves in my path, walking very slowly and yelling, “There’s a fat lady behind us! There’s a fat lady behind us! There’s a fat lady behind us!”

Unfortunately, since they were children, I couldn’t use my standard retort that I use on the rare occasion when some jackass has something to say about my size: “That’s right. And when your friends ask you what the fuck happened to your face, I hope you’ll inform them that you got the shit beat out of you by a fat lady.” For some reason, that response didn’t seem appropriate for the situation. So I just ignored the little fleas and pushed past. Maybe pushed a little harder than I should have.

See, this is something I’ve never understood – picking on fat people. Chances are, if you’re picking on a fat person, they can kick your ass! I just wish more of us fat folks had the confidence to do just that.

When I got to my truck, the pack came running for the minivan, their minder nowhere in sight while they sprawled into the busy parking lot. At this point, I know I can’t fully hold the kids responsible for their rudeness. They’re kids who, at this moment in time, were pretty much being ignored by the one adult responsible for them. When she eventually came out and flashed me an “I’m sorry” look for the kids blocking traffic, I used all of  my restraint to keep from rolling down my window and informing her of the ill manners I witnessed from her pack of little fly-lords. She obviously had enough on her hands.

But at the same time, as a parent I would want to know if my kid was being a mean-spirited little snot. Because if the kids are willing to act that way with an adult, how in the world are they treating peers who don’t meet their criteria of rightness when the adults aren’t looking? If I see the mom when I pick up Clara Jane, and if she’s not being carried off to a boiling cauldron by her charges, I may pull her aside and let her know what happened.

And if she says one word about my weight, I’m pulling out my clean bill of health and beating the fuck out of her with it.