Pear and Brie

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Things.

We will be infinitely more clever tomorrow.  We’ll have a clearer picture tomorrow.  Or we won’t.  At any rate.  Big, scary news made less scary by excellent friends and talking the freaking hell out of it.

I have written a bit in reviewing a couple stories for group, but I don’t think that constitutes 500 words so I am just going to need to focus my little fevered brain and settle down here and settle up with the page.

Today, I think, as a bit of an object lesson, I have to talk about the Big Mac I ate for lunch.  I, the girl who is attempting to diet, ate a Big Mac hamburger sandwich and a whole thing of fries.

Basically, I needed a cheap fix and we were stuck in the office unexpectedly and I had cash in my pocket (vs. cash in my bank account).  It isn’t a big deal, really.  People eat haphazardly all the time, it isn’t amoral.  I just felt like STRESS = FOOD = WHAT IS GOING TO SHUT ME UP RIGHT NOW?  I felt the absolute continuum of emotion with no break, no moment of realization or awareness or ability to question what I was doing.

That is what I don’t like.  I don’t like leaving my body to go on walkabout in the middle of the day.  It doesn’t matter to me that I ate it (and wonder of wonders, actually got myself to track it, even if I’m hunting down this goal and this pushes me in the opposite direction), it just matters to me that I felt so much like giving up.  I felt failurific and that the whole premise of self-improvement was dust in light of the fact that I could just up and make a choice like that just because I was a little bit freaked.

I am not perfect.  I don’t make perfect choices.  Nobody has me down on the list of perfect people cause nobody’s got that list and if they do, they’ve got a long list of scratched out names.  It’s an old shitty story I tell myself because it makes me feel special and pretty, and it’s not right.  I just ate McDonald’s because was super hungry and it was 2pm and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen with my life.

And I was still under calorie-wise.  Even with this popcorn and the macchiato.  And then I even got on the bike and whirled around for 30 minutes when I was so damn sure that I was going to cave and fail and lay here sighing at the ceiling.  I have done that, a bit, but I did also get up and do that.  The pound of shit in one hand is matched by the pound of gold in the other.  It’s just where you choose to put the emphasis.

So.  Yes.  It’s going to be fine.  We’re going to Seattle, we’re going to eat pizza, we’re going to solve the mystery of V.M. Straka, we’re going to live.

 

False Start

Well, I didn’t leap out of bed at 6:00am and throw myself on the bike.  I didn’t do it and there’s no changing that now that I’ve made it to work and I’m hungry as hell and sipping this low-carb shake and Astrid’s telling me it’s time to get moving on this health thing, meanwhile Mildred’s saying that it’s Monday and there’s all sorts of odd things going on here as far as staff being out and…

I have to go to bed.  I have to change this cycle.  I have to not take this on.  It’s the same story.  There was talk about money issues again at work and I didn’t prepare anything to actually help me get through the fact that I am asking myself to change my food habits.  In fact, I fucked up hard in the face of the fact that nobody seems to have an answer for these money issues, but people of authority are not taking an interest and the shit that seems to have no form is somehow finding a way to roll downhill.

I feel like I have got to be fucking smarter than this.  I was watching this show on Soul Food on PBS and the health implications for African-Americans about this culturally-mandated unhealthy food.  They way some are challenging this notion about what they have to eat.  Or at least control what feels almost in your bones and DNA.  Eating in moderation.  I should be able to get myself in some way on the path, if only for my health.  Turning on a dime.  I have to do it and not let myself get drafted into these bad decisions like eating at McDonald’s which literally alters my blood chemistry to such a degree that I leave my brain and go numb for hours.  I don’t get my work done.   It’s horrible.  I feel my body just pissed off and ready for something else, but I’m laughing at this need.

I was driving to our post-work event and the rain surged, became blinding, if you could ascribe an emotion to it, it felt like the sky was having a tantrum.  It was all I could do to turn out of the flooding and go another way and it was a matter of moments before the sky turned blue and the sun backlit that robin’s egg horizon.  It was beautiful.  And I had to go fail in the face of it by eating cake and pizza and caramel corn to calm down the feelings.

Brighter, fresher, cleaner, I want to feel like a toothpaste commercial.

But none of that matters much today.  I have a friend who only by virtue of today being her day off missed being at the Library in Moore, OK.   This has nothing to do with me as none of these national tragedies and weather disasters ever do – as of yet, hopefully, they never will.  But it feels oddly closer to home knowing someone who could have been caught up in it but for a thin layer of chance.

I’m just glad that she’s okay.  I’m just glad about that.