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Archive for October, 2011

I think I’m generally well aware of my own preferences, my fears, my weaknesses, but maybe we don’t know what truly gets us at our core until we are confronted with it. I say this because today I am being confronted with gummy candies (delicious, chewy, sweet and sour, motherfucking AMAZEBALLS GUMMY CANDY), and it turns out that’s my true weakness.

Granted, I have a lot of weaknesses. All sweets for starters. Cake, I adore. Ice cream, I could eat, like a dog, until I get physically ill. Chocolate, cookies, candy bars, flans, pies, whatever. I love it all. A lot. And I’ve been studiously avoiding it. And it’s been HARD. But doable. I was at dinner with friends last night, and they ordered an apple tart with ice cream. I watched them eat it; it smelled delicious. I didn’t have any. Because I’m not eating sugar. So that’s all there is too it.

So you’d think that the big plastic bin of gummy candy that some other division sent over as a thank you for some something or another would be just like the cookies and M&Ms and other crap that’s in the kitchen (leftover from the Halloween potluck that I skipped b/c I’m sick of smelling and looking at all that frickin’ food) – desirable but… oh well, not for me.

Nope. I basically can’t go in there. I feel it PULL ME TOWARDS IT. There are PEACH RINGS. And SWEDISH FISH. And motherfracking ORANGE WEDGES. Apparently, these are the things I love most.

I want them sooooo badly. I ate some leftover stir-fry to try to help with that. It has not. I will now go watch the video my trainer sent me of Dr. Oz scaring people. Hopefully it will work on me.

File under: this is so fucking hard. But also, I’m a motherfucking warrior.

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I feel overwhelmed. To the point of wanting to kick something repeatedly, stab at something, maybe throw some things, and yell.

I don’t know how to do it all. And I also feel like I don’t do nearly enough as it is. I feel the tasks and appointments and people and duties of my life rushing up and over me like a great wave of heavy boxes and assorted junk, moving fast as the ocean. I want to hide. I want to peal my skin off.

I am changing everything. I just stopped myself from typing “having to.” Because it’s my choice. I want to; it’s not like there’s another, better alternative. I’m not even sure I know who I was or what before was like anymore anyway. What am I changing from? That shore is already lost in fog, shown to me only in glimpses, and already too far away to go back to. Not that I want to or should. I just don’t know how to move forward either.

Practically speaking, I have to work out every day. And it’s hard. And it keeps getting harder because as soon as I master something, my trainer ups the ante. She did it this morning, throwing our session into a gear enough higher than what I was prepared for that I almost burst into tears. But I also almost cried because I already feel like I can’t keep up, with just about everything. But I had managed, finally, to do what I was supposed to – get to the gym early enough (6:15am) for a 40 minute cardio workout before our session. And of course, I was already tired by the end of that, but then she threw so much at me that I felt punished. Although, of course, that’s not what it was. It’s just that I’m stronger now, so I have to work harder.

So I did, and I was feeling better, like I had made it through because, by the end of the session, I had. And it had been hard, but I had done it. And then she told me again that she wants me to cut all carbs out of my evening meals. I had to tell her that we were starting to push past the point of what I could handle, that food is a difficult issue for me, that the changes I had made were already so great that I was pretty much already at my capacity. She just nodded at me in her calm way and told me it’s not about handling things, it’s just about eating fewer carbs and that I can just do that and make that change and then it will be different.

I felt like I was being strangled. Because I’m just barely holding on to the life I know. It’s already so much harder to socialize with people. I’m now *that* person who can’t go to half the restaurants and who doesn’t want to go out for ice cream or drinks or lattes because I can’t HAVE any of it. It was a challenge all this past weekend when my mom was visiting to go to restaurants that would be fun for my mom and still be places where I could eat. It was hard to figure out what thing on the menu didn’t have red meat, butter, cheese, fried-anything, sugar, or processed carbs attached. And I didn’t always succeed, but I really tried. I had iced tea when my mom and boyfriend had wine. I tried not to scowl when my boyfriend got dessert with his meal. I had to excuse myself and go to the bathroom because it’s actually hard for me to watch someone eat something that I really really really really want (despite knowing that I don’t really want it – or want the long-term effects of having it).

It was a challenge to be okay with not having the chocolate croissant with breakfast and the other things that just feel nice, and like, yes, this is how we live and why life is good. And tell myself that it was okay, and I was fine with my new, different way. I have to be really present to make that true. And a lot of times that level of effort and presence – along with all the working out – doesn’t leave a lot leftover in terms of energy. It was a struggle for me to be awake and excited and as positive and happy as I wanted to be while my mom was visiting. Half the time, I wanted to take a nap, or just read quietly.

Because I can’t have the things I know to be parts of my life, that I associate with good times and communion with the people I love. And it makes me less fun. It makes me irritable because I’m confused, making my slow way through new territory that I cannot see far into. I just have to keep following this little trail, despite only seeing what is directly in front of me (vegetables) and trust that it leads to something better than the hot but familiar valley where I lived before.

So it was already that much effort to hold on. Plus, not being able to drink and thus losing a lot of the ways I socialize with my peers. Plus all the exercise, which takes time and makes me tired. Plus, the lessened interest in things that used to greatly interest me (travel to see friends, outings to cool things like Octoberfests or food truck rallies or Pie Town USA’s fall weekend). All of these new pieces to manage, these challenges, day in and day out, and most days it’s good and I want the challenge. But other days it’s hard. And for the past week or so it’s been particularly hard. I feel a person apart from so many of the people I love. I feel like my time is fully committed and leaves me without the space for other things I want to do. I feel too tired to engage. So to get my ass kicked this morning was more than I was ready for. But I did it. And that was good.

But then to be told that I had to modify my diet, to make it even more spartan and extreme. I just don’t know how to hold that. It’s not that I can’t do it, but that I am angry that I am being asked to. Because I feel like it means walking away completely from what I know. How can I go out with friends? How can I share meals with my boyfriend who still eats normally? How can I travel? If I can’t even have some goddamn brown rice with dinner! It seems unreasonable. It’s enough already not to get wine or dessert or any cheese, or half of anything else. I feel like I’m going to have to sequester myself in a kitchen of carefully researched and prepared, time-consuming meals (which in a way I would love to do – I would love to spend time cooking from scratch, really getting into ingredients and spices and flavors – but with what time?). Or just eat salads.

I don’t want to lose my love of food. That wasn’t my goal or the point. The idea was to redefine how I love it. But when it’s so strict, it feels like it is all taken away from me – not just the food, but the people I shared it with, the life I have. I feel like the only place this can leave me is alone. And I feel just as lost as I have ever been.

Oh and also, still fat. Not *as* fat, but the rolls are still there. This has to be something for my whole life, something I am happy to live with. Right now, all I feel is the struggle.

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I want a cookie. A delicious, chewy chocolate chip cookie. But I can’t HAVE a cookie because the cookie is bad for me. It’s full of sugar and butter and even a pinch of salt (for flavor balance) …and why is it that all the best tasting things have to be the worst for me? I’m fucking angry at the cookie pushers. The Starbucks and bakeries and Mrs. Field’s of the world  who are like, “Oh look! Look what we have here! It’s a delicious special treat! Just for YOU! It’s going to be so good and taste so nice and make you feel so happy. This cookie looooooves you.

Because isn’t that what a fucking cookie stands for? Love and happiness and joy?

Seriously, everyone told me they loved me with cookies. And it was a BAD idea.

My grandma baked them just like something out of a Good Housekeeping ad. “I’m so happy you came to visit. I made you cookies. Because I love you.”

Don’t get fat though.

I mean, eat the cookie. It’s a symbol of my love, and I’ll be sad if you don’t. I want to give you this nice thing. Just like your mom does and your friends do and the guy whose birthday it is at the office and literally every damn person in the world at Christmas. We just want to share and make you happy. Just want to give a little perk to your day. So enjoy! But don’t let it go to your hips or your butt.

Oh it did?

Gosh, well… probably no more cookies… I mean, love… I mean cookies for you then.

Because that’s what it feels like. Like the love is being taken away. And that’s not nice. But um, also… NEITHER WAS THE COOKIE!

That shit’s bad for you.

Like just not… healthy.

So 1. Why don’t we show love with healthy things like, I don’t know… an apple?
And 2. Why isn’t that apple as delicious or awesome as a cookie?

WHY IS THE BAD THING TASTIER?!

Who DID that?

And why is it being mass-marketed? Why is the tasty, bad thing the size of your face? Why can you buy a bag of 50 of them for only 4 bucks? Why do they taste so good with milk? Why do they get put on top of OTHER desserts like ice cream and cupcakes? Isn’t one dessert enough? ISN’T IT ENOUGH?!!

No.
It is never enough.
I can eat more and more delicious rounds of sugar and butter and yum. I can eat it all day and all night; I can eat it in my car or on a flight. But it doesn’t matter how I Dr. Seuss it up. It will never be enough. And it will never make me full.

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