Curse You Oprah

I think there could be something potentially wrong with me.

For whatever reason the past month or so I have been crying at the drop of a hat. If something makes me sad, I cry. If I find something sappy and sweet, I cry. If I am happy for someone, I cry. If I'm gassy,...ok well I don't for that one, but that's about the only one.

Last night I watched the Chronicles of Narnia. I didn't full on bawl my eyes out, but I did get a catch in my throat when Susan and Lucy were stroking the dead Aslans muzzle. Wtf? It's a Disney movie - and not even a movie I would rate as all that great...

Sure you maybe saying that's nothing. A little choaked up. That doesn't get you a ticket on the hormone train, but wait - there is more...

But last week I was watching some telethon for the St. Jude's Children's hospital weeping on the couch. Sure I didn't stand a chance against little sweet bald kids, but still - I don't know them personally. I will never meet them. My tears don't help me or them so what's the point?

If that's not bad enough I cried during A Prairie Home Companion. This is inexcusable really. A minor character who's in the movie ten minutes dies and I'm snuffling into my sleeve. Seriously - you must admit I have a problem now.

I can trace it all back to Oprah. I blame her really. Maybe some of you saw the episode where she had 50 essay winners on her show who wrote about genocide. A girl and her sister who were from Rawanda were on her show. The youngest sister was an essay winner. She was six when all the bad news went down. She and her older sister escaped and survived by living in the swamps and eating whatever they could find. They hadn't seen their parents since. But oh no - good old Oprah found them and flew them to America. They have two more siblings they'd never met. You'd think happy happy - but there I am on my couch again, sobbing. And not just a lump in my throat, or a few tears, no snuffling into my sleeve - this was full out gasping, like a fish on your livingroom floor, sobbing.

I blame Oprah. Hormones - and perhaps old age? I seriously am not a crier.

All these salty streaks are going to seriously damage my reputation as a bitter old spinster.