I report, you decide. The scale is not budging even an ounce. So. What do we do? We have to do more. Not less. Not give up or give in. And most importantly, I need to get up a little spark of energy to set this flash-paper body on fire.
I’ll be bold as well as strong!
So I’ve been continuing to read Weight today because I have been so relentlessly exhausted. I passed out during the last five minutes of Labyrinth last night, though I woke up shortly thereafter, just within enough time to bid my friends adieu without it being totally awkward (which could only happen, you know, if you’re watching movies together via the internet and not in person) and sort of hobbled and collected myself enough to go to actual, proper sleep in my not so proper, half-askew, messy as hell (until I shoved everything onto the floor) bed. And I slept deeply. I know this because I dreamed. And I dreamed some fairly hideous things including a random, almost cliche middle-aged sales associate from Staples showing up in my childhood home to save me from being raped after I wasn’t serious enough about the political causes of a zealot whose papers I knocked about in the hallway front of my old room.
I grabbed him and I kissed him all over his face, apologizing, but he was going to save me momentarily from a terrible fate and so this wasn’t all that untoward. Then I woke up. Attempted the scale. Saw 157.4 which for three days running doesn’t seem right at all and in fact, pissed me the hell off if I don’t make my goal due to some kind of technicality, and then I waywardly went careening back into bed like a fleshy zombie returning to her sepulcher under the ceiling fan where I dreamed again. This time, I dreamed of Mr. Rochester having another secret shop way off the beaten path of my usual haunts in town, and I went in, after much nerves, to find him and say hello or whatever it is I would say were I to ever speak with him again and obviously, I never found him and instead found a strange, Midwestern family setting down to a holiday meal which I awkwardly joined them in.
Then, I woke up, decided enough was enough and took a bath, read Weight a bit, drank my shake and cleaned up a bit and did my makeup and then wound up back in bed like some kind of overly taxed Blanche Dubois figure which is not…that cute.
Finally, I awoke and drew myself to you and to what I hope is a soon-to-be fulfilled prospect of food. Which possibly will include sausage and egg since it is just up to me and I don’t know what else to do that is sensible and clearly I have no sense.
What I want for today: more writing, more walking, more water, more Weight (literary Weight), more reason, more joy, more Mumford, more, more, more.
Goal: 155 by June 15