Problem Child.

I have a friend who complains constantly about a food baby. A little tiny thing that looks like a tumor on your stomach that occasionally appears every Thanksgiving, Christmas or really fabulous buffet style dinner. This is not one of my major complaints in life, honestly, I can live with a little stomach fat, it's not the end of the world, and honestly I'd rather have that than be a starving kid in one of those ad's. That's a sad thought. BUT back to my blog... I do not have a food baby, I have a problem baby. Truly. I have a baby of problems, or a problem child, seeing that it's matured into everything from health to taxes, it's a problem baby.

I suppose another way to put it is that I am one of the world's largest worriers. I will worry about everything and everyone. I will mother the Queen Mother, and check if she has a cold if I could. It's my nature to be overprotective, but for myself, which has been a constant bother for my father. "If you could only be more self-sufficent' . I suppose he has a point....

Everything I think of becomes a problem, something that I could easily not dramatize, becomes a horrendeus event and some other dramatic word I care not use. Unfortunately this is probably out of insecurity- that I won't have any friends if I'm not constantly nice to them and do everything they want, and I don't have the security that they will be there if I don't agree with them. It is probably out of guilt, and a little bit of dramatic flair.

It really is a problem child I have. I don't have any way to get rid of this baby.