Cheap Therapy

Suppose you are a late thirty-something mother of three.

You spend most of your time taking care of the house, the kids, the husband.

You're pretty good about making sure everyone gets to their various lessons, practices and such. You mostly clean up messes, cook meals, do laundry and run children around town cheerfully and without complaint.

You are responsible for dropping off and picking up your husband's dry cleaning. Most of the time you even remember to visit redhanger.com for the monthly coupon.

It doesn't bother you that you don't even own clothes that should be professionally cleaned. Your wardrobe consists mainly of tee shirts, jeans and a semi-cool pair of brown Sketchers and you're ok with that, you really are.

Having a baby in the family has altered your previous life style. You don't get to the movie theater very often, so when you do go, it is kind of a big deal.

You plan for it, look forward to it, hey you might even wear something non-denim and put on a necklace for the occasion.

You swallow the eight bucks-per person- it costs to get in. You can even deal with the additional 6.00 for popcorn and 4.00 for a soda. When it comes to throwing down another 3.00 for a box of Whoppers, you happily oblige.

You see, Whoppers are the real reason you came. Oh sure you could have picked up a box of Whoppers from the dollar store, turned on the tv and camped out on your couch for two hours but everyone knows there is something morally wrong with that picture.

Because you arranged for a sitter, wore your khakis and a necklace, paid 30.00 to get in and because you absolutely deserve it, you take your 3,045 calorie treasure and excitedly find your seat.

You strategically place the Whopper box under the arm furthest from your husband. You hope he is so busy with popcorn that he forgets all about those little round balls of malted bliss.

During the previews you quietly open your precious box, your mouth watering in anticipation. Your personal rule is to grab two at a time. You see, Whoppers should not be chewed. They should always be savored, every serious Whopper connoisseur knows that.

But when you reach into the box, something alarming happens! The box is only about 1/2 full. You gasp, you shriek, it's all you can do to remain seated.

The movie starts, but there is no joy in it for you. Your consumer confidence in the Hersheys Company has been shaken. Why use such a big box only to fill it 1/2 full? It should be illegal. You think about asking for a refund or writing a letter of complaint. Maybe you should file a law suit, that would show 'em!

Your 1/2 box of Whoppers lasts about 1/2 of the movie. You try, but you can't help being irritated. It bothers you so much that you decide to write a blog about it.

You type your frustrations.
You take a deep breath.
You feel better.

Your friends read about your woes, they realize you are nuttier than they thought. They accept you for the Whopper-oholic that you are. All is right with the world once again.

Cheap therapy... works for me.