Pressure.

STRESS is defined as "an organism's total response to environmental demands or pressures".

So if I understand this correctly, the “organism” would be US and STRESS is the end result of too many balls in the air, or too much crap on your plate…take your pick.

Either way, it’s probably not good….and it’s a gross analogy. (Ew.)

Today I came to the conclusion that STRESS is wreaking havoc on my body and I hardly even realized it. Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Well. She doesn’t know the meaning of REAL STRESS…she should try living MY life,” or some variation thereof.

I’ve got to say, I don’t care much for your attitude.

Now, where was I??

I think STRESS is like one of those nifty computer programs that runs undetected in the background, hanging up your hard drive and basically making your life miserable.The thought that anyone could thrive on this stuff is unimaginable to me.

I know some people eat when they’re STRESSED. I am not one of those people. I swing the other way…my stomach reacts to food the same way that the boys react to my request for a hug:

No. Nope. Not happening. No way. Not in this lifetime.

So.

I’m considering buying some Ensure the next time I’m at the market. Isn’t that supposed to be the geriatric-equivalent to a meal in some cultures? I’m not in a position to be picky…I just need to stave off malnutrition while I attempt to reduce my STRESSLOAD.

“I wouldn’t expect too much sympathy, Kathy.”

Look, everyone. It’s Clinton Kelly. What a surprise.

Clinton: “Why do you keep introducing me that way? What happened to ‘C-man’? That was growing on me.”
Kathryn: “The search engines won’t pick up on ‘C-man’. C’mon…you know this...if we’re gonna have a dialogue, we’ve got to do it right.”
C: “Okey-dokey. Want to share a pizza?”
K: “That’s not funny. Have you been listening to me? I’ve got a serious STRESS-disorder and you want pizza?”
C: “What’s wrong with pizza? A little mushroom…a little onion…C’mon. I’m hungry.”
K: “No, you’re not. You’re not even REAL.”
C: “And whose fault is THAT? Don’t tell me how I’m feeling. If I say I’m hungry, I’m hungry.”
K: “You are very rude for an imaginary dude, you know that? Hey! I RHYMED!
I am truly gifted."
C: (Rolls eyes) “For someone whose stomach is empty, you sure are full of yourself. Get it? I crack myself up.”
K: (Rolls eyes back) “You are so clever. You should really look into performing.”
C: “You’re a riot. So, how are we going to reduce your STRESSLOAD? Maybe you should learn how to chant.”
K: “Uh-huh. OR, I could…I dunno…do some serious mental-reorganization and discard any and all unnecessary and emotionally damaging inner voices…”
C: “I’m listening. Don’t hurt me.”
K: “That’s better. If we’re going to co-exist, you’re going to need to be nicer, Mr. Kelly.”
C: “Please. Call me ‘C-man’.”
K: “Now we’re talking. I think I’ll take that pizza now…”
C: “That’s the spirit….but it’s a little late for that. Maybe a nice can of Ensure…”