Your Mother and Her Combat Boots

I drove in.  I didn’t do it just to spite my most miserable sister, but that was a feature.  Right now, I’m willfully staring in the general direction of the sun in hopes of convincing it to melt those last little patches.  This is what neurosis and anxiety looks like.   Glorious, no?

Whirlwind of a day after conquering (not really – driving home, I totally drove like an old lady in a blizzard and I was pretty sure I was going to throw up even though I knew it was okay) my fears and getting there. I don’t know how it is that I can barely have enough time to eat and yet manage to make no progress at my job at all.  I did manage to do really well thus far food-wise.  I put in a Whopper with Cheese and a small fry into the tracker on SparkPeople.  Something that would have been no big whoop (ahem) to eat in pre-diet days.  It would be fast, easy, convenient.  All the selling points that kind of food has to offer.  But that sucker is 1,000 calories.  1,000 goddamned calories.  This is a gutbomb in its truest form because that’s going to go off in your belly and have reverberations for weeks if you’re not careful.  I know I could eat it and forgo dinner, but you know what?  I like dinner.  A lot.  I like coming home and getting myself calmed down and having dinner.  This is something I’ve always suspected about myself even when that dinner was just whatever you pulled out of the paper bag.   I don’t want to give up dinner for a burger in the middle of the day that isn’t going to factor into my decisions when I get home.  When I get home, I’m hungry and something has to be done about it no matter when I ate lunch.  It’s Pavlovian.

So instead, I went to the grocery store and got frozen lunches and some pasta for dinner and some chicken salad and a really yummy green chile thing I’ll eat tomorrow.

It all comes down to looking at the landscape of the day and prioritizing.  Some days are better and easier than others.  Today I surmise that I was able to keep it together for a couple of reasons.

One, I have events coming up that I would really like to look nice for.  I have our big luncheon and my birthday. I want progress for those things.  I have a little maybe progress but I do not trust that dumb scale.  So, I can’t feel super comfortable wanting myself to be svelte and lovely when I turn up for those things and then turn around and eat a Whopper.  Well, I can and I have, but I don’t want to and luckily, this time, I didn’t.

Two, I wasn’t sure if I was doing this right or not.  I mean, I had this little wavering in the back of my head.  The critical, snow-bound, impossible to please voice within that wants me most desperately to not do this.  To not lose weight and to not better myself.  And there was something about today that made me equally desperate to tell that voice to shut the fuck up and get out of my way.

I like that mood.  A lot.  I’m going to try and visit it more often.