The one thing I know is that at the end of the day, there’s got to be at least 500 words to say about something. Something diet related. It generally keeps my mind going to that specific well throughout the day, keeps my head in the game, so to speak.
Today, there wasn’t time for any games, really. Or any thoughts about the universe. Until the truly shitty drive home where I keep coming to terms with the fact that there may be something worse than a flat tire wrong with my car. And as I know shit from shinola about cars and have zero time to learn/care/handle it, I’m pretty much going to drive the thing until it shakes my head into a brainy frappe. Just groused the whole way home in between terrors that the car was going to give out like it was running on molasses and not rather expensive gasoline.
So, stress? A little bit. Mostly self-induced.
I should stop whining and deal and focus on the wonderfulness that is getting healthy and eating a salad that I think is pretty delicious and the fact that now I have time to finish this book I’m reading. I should because doing otherwise brings up funny feelings of being overwhelmed and needing to quash said overwhelmingness with starches and sugars and giant brigades of shitty choices.
Sometimes, you just have to sit on your hands until clarity comes to you.
Today is my exercise rest day. I should clean up around here as a use for that time, instead. I am eyeing a big pile of clothes that putting away would do a world for my stress levels. I think that sentence was syntactically deformed, but hey. I’m just very old-me today. Charred out from work, unable to see a bigger picture, feeling raw and bitten and hearing about diet stuff makes me mad for some reason. This grand scheme, this Great Plan as I have dubbed it elsewhere seems like an exercise in idiocy. But I think that and right now in response to my negative little tantrum, the Sir Galahad of Positive Thoughts gallops in on a gleaming white horse and announces, “But my lady, how canst that be so, as you are changing, indeed, you have already changed?”
I like myself minus ten pounds. I didn’t hate…who knows if I hated myself plus ten pounds before. Probably on levels and in certain places, I hated myself for the place I left myself. So helplessly floating around at sea, admiring shores I could never touch. But now I have a paddle and a map and even when I’m so damn tired of having to be navigator and captain and first mate and the parrot all at once, I’m not a thing adrift. I am changing, and part of what I’m changing is the paradigm of all or nothing. That if this day leaves me anxious and distracted and aching for succor and release, that doesn’t mean that I can’t sit on those hands and see if those feelings can pass. This day is not the proving ground, nor will tomorrow be, instead, it’s every day until I quit. I’m mixing metaphors. I just want to say that however shitty and useless and unedited this entry may be, I get to try again tomorrow. Isn’t that an amazing thing?
















