The Bathmobile


Feeling a bit of a mess.    The feet reaaallly bothered me today and my legs are sore from the exercise I have done for reasons that are not entirely clear to me.   They are feeling marginally better now with my legs up and extended, but mostly, I just feel off and weird and all my hypochondriacal tendencies are asking to be let loose and I simply CANNOT allow this.  Not for three more weeks when everything insurancewise is re-situated.  SO.   As long as I can feel “better” – I am letting myself relax about it.

Feeling a bit zing-y all over. Maybe I’m just getting sick.  I feel like that could be the case.  I did get really sick after this happened in Italy.  That would be excessively NOT ON if that’s the case.  Flying over the Atlantic Ocean with an open faucet coming out of your face.  Ah, well.  Hot bath, that’ll fix it.

What else?  What am I ready for?  Nothing.  Okay.  Well, we are going to have to work around you, asshole voice in my head, because life is happening regardless of whether or not you feel safe and or happy.

I have no real reason to complain…well, yes, but I have a lot of reasons to be pleased as well.   We went to dinner, the sister and I, and I found something I think was dietarily acceptable even at a Mexican restaurant.  I continue to be aware that I need to clean it up more, to look more closely at more than just the calorie count, but for now, for today, I know I ate less than I might have if I weren’t doing this.

After last night’s post which reflected it, I spent some time working on the novel.  If I have the tiniest of tiny frames to focus on, this helps.  It’s a bit hard to have a co-writer on one thing when you’re used to figuring everything out on your own.  To be so full up with someone else’s ideas, to just incorporate them as your own – they don’t cling to me in the same way.  Even when we talk or I read the new plans, I have to exert focus and effort.  It feels ridiculously good when I do, but this, too, I find easy to forget.  Too much time spent inventorying twinges.

I have another assignment now on a couple fronts, but I know a bit of what I’m doing and aim to start from there.

Also spent a bit of time today reading this article by the excellent and erudite Caissie St. Onge: reflecting on her weight loss experience and what it means if someone with all the money and means and mettle in the world like Oprah is still struggling, like we’re ALL still struggling, to lose weight. I know that I can do more than I’m doing.  I have a lot of body image issues, but I haven’t really put in the time and effort to see about just eating better, just taking care instead of treating my body as a garbage dump for the physical manifestations of my feelings.   So it doesn’t make me want to stop, per se, but it does make me think about the mental side of this.

Suppose I can make all of this happen and get sleek and svelte and great and then I fuck it up.  Because I will.  Be it one pound or every last one of those I’ve lost in this drive.  I mean, who will I be on the other side of this if there’s only one successful outcome?

That’s why I am trying to adjust my thinking.

…more on this.  I am really starting to feel achy all over.  To the bathmobile!


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