Well remember when I said I went off weight watchers for 3 days...yeah that turned into 2 weeks. I'm pretty much back to square one. I gained about 20 lbs in 2 weeks and before you say no it’s not possible, keep in mind, you've never seen me eat. I eat my life away, in private, with the shades drawn like a drug addict. So whatever. I am where I am. I sabotaged myself again. I failed. I have ass on all sides of my body now. Baby got front!
I keep telling myself...this is the last day of binging 5 times a day. Tomorrow I will change, but tomorrow comes and I see blackness, and not just the girl behind the counter at KFC, I mean real darkness.... as in a bleak doomed existence. I think what I am battling here, more than weight is a real food addiction. Welp Oprah! You nailed it again! It’s not the thyroid, its not the exhaustion, its the addiction to filling our fantastic souls with pudding. What am I feeding? What is this blind inhalation of food all about? Well from what I can tell it’s that I’m lonely. That I’m scared I’ll always be lonely. That I’m in a constant pursuit for love of all kinds and I’m not giving it to myself or letting myself have it so I must coat my insides with gravy and make flesh cushions so no one can come near me? Maybe. My shrink seems to think that is the case and tries to help me work on it by practicing to love my inner child, and nurture myself and fill myself with love. I'm working on it. I know it all sounds a little birkenstockish but I am in agreement with the theory that we can energetically shift our thinking and thereby shift our life. I'll get there.
It's typical "20's" shit. Finding yourself, learning about yourself through others, defining who you are blah blah blah. I hate being in my 20's. I don't like the process of it, and frankly, I don’t think that I’m really cut out for it, on a soul level. I think I’m meant to be in my 50's or 60's. I mean think about it! I love to sit, I love to gossip, I love the beauty parlor, and playing cards. I love too much jewelry at a swimming pool. Basically I’m ready to retire is what I’m saying here. Enough is enough. I don’t want to meet my husband (god willing there is one) I don't want the honeymoon period, I’m not excited for that. The only fucking I want to do is giving my husband the middle finger as we pass each other in the hallway. Is that sick? Maybe I’m just fundamentally the laziest person on earth. I cant guarantee that I have a great life ahead of me and not knowing is very unsettling for me. But it’s my decision. I know this. I have to keep plugging away and it’s exhausting. I just want the end result. Maybe that’s why eating is so satisfying. You eat, you shit (god willing) you eat again and so on and so on.
Tolstoy famously said, "The biggest surprise in a man's life is old age." I suppose I don't want to turn around and be old and think that I ate and slept and drank my life away. I would like to look back and say I had a pretty amazing crazy life. So I’m not going to go crazy about the number on the scale for the time being although I know we are all anticipating the after photos, or maybe I just am, but I am going to go crazy about slowing down, not being so fearful and enjoying the process.