|Like The Queen
Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.
Give yourself a break 'til after the wedding, Bess! I can't imagine trying to be superwoman under these circumstances. Don't beat yourself up, and just enjoy these next 10 days.
By 7:21 PM, at
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Monday, January 10, 2005 Okay, I’m not trying very hard to do healthy things. How about, “I am thinking about things that are healthy that I could do.”
Gad, I can’t seem to stop eating too much, getting too little sleep and no exercise. This is not good. I feel like someone who used to be a drug addict, got treatment, moved away, then moved back to the old neighborhood and got sucked into the old gang. My stomach has that continuous dull ache in it from eating too much. I remember this feeling from before WW. I hated it then, and feared it too. I hate it still.
The idea of food as comfort is a mysterious conundrum. Nourishment certainly is comfort. But I have not ever found eating traditional comfort foods actually comforting. White food, sweet food, gooey food, chocolate food. I am always so furtive about eating comfort food that the actual comfort never gets a chance to kick in. If I could really spoon up a bite of rich, slightly tangy macaroni and cheese, let it sit on my tongue, savor it’s fragrance, enjoy the soft texture, and then swallow that single bite - maybe then I could find comfort in it. I would probably stop eating it after one or two bites.
Instead I enter some food laden environment with my skinny friends or [far] younger darlings, who are excited about having a treat. My multi-tasking mind casts a quick and efficient glance about the situation, registers happy friends snapping up food treats, checks the Nice box in the Naughty-Or-Nice questionnaire, decides to get myself a treat, buys it and inserts it into the chute that leads to the TreatSector of my stomach where the switch to the YouAreLoved wrinkles in my brain will get flicked on.
Only there isn’t any such thing. It’s just a stomach. A completely full, disinterested and overworked stomach that is royally ticked off that I dumped more sugar into it. That poor stomach sends up a screeching alarm for help to get rid of this danged excess, draining all the happy endorphins from my brain and the energy pulses out of my muscles, as every resource in my body whumps into my digestive track; armed, determined, but really irritated that they were called away from their regular duties to stave off the effects of misguided eating. In their place they left cushioning fat cells to keep their regular responsibilities, those strong bones, firm muscles and cheerful attitudes, from banging into each other.
This weird combination of the multi-tasking efficiency nut and the mindless pleasure seeker guarantees that I get nothing out of the whole process. Like some adolescent post-prom ex-virgin's belief that if she was drunk it didn’t happen, I think sometimes my brain tells itself that if I don’t really enjoy the brownie/cookie/latte, I didn’t really eat/drink it.
Well. Opening with such a lengthy grousing might lead you to think I didn’t have any fun yesterday. In fact I had a deliciously fun day with K, catching up on her life, listening to her interesting tales of adventures in far off lands, and in general enjoying myself in the company of someone I like. We were not too long in the city, were home in time to go out to dinner with BD, had more interesting conversations when we got home and made it to bed before it was shamefully late. She has one more day with us before she must fly away and I’ll come home early this afternoon to spend more time with her.
Right now, a little goal setting is called for. Some of it health related - like - 5 fruits and vegetables and 8 glasses of water. Some of it will be of a more occupational nature, as there are things that must be done to keep the wheels grinding at the library. There shan’t be any time to visit the gym today but it’s possible I could take a good walk across the winter landscape - which might do more for me than a 400 calorie burn on the elliptical machine. There’s something to be said for natural lighting.
posted by Bess | 6:33 AM