For those few of you who subscribe to my feed – let me apologize for flooding it this morning. I had to move all the content from the Cricket and Grey site because we’re going to have it redirect to this one. I don’t need any extra sites to manage and I’m in the process of starting the Post Apocalyptic Kitchen with my friend Emma – so it’s time to simplify.
I’m supposed to be calling a small produce market right now to get the price for a pallet of tomatoes. I don’t feel like making any phone calls. I don’t really feel like doing anything right now. The kid just came home from school with a stomach ache. Second week of school and he’s already missing some.
I feel like my body is going to explode because it seems bigger than ever. Speculation abounds as to why I haven’t gotten even the tiniest bit more svelte after a month of not cooking with cheese. I’ve had some dairy out once or twice a week, and that’s it. Then there’s all that exercise. I did take two weeks off to deal with the last truck load of crap from Oregon. But I’ve exercised more in the last two months than I have in a very long time. Yet still I’m huge and feeling huger.
After this coming weekend we are going to stop drinking alcohol at home unless we have guests over. All I can say is – if I am not eating much dairy, and not drinking much alcohol, and getting plenty of exercise, and I don’t lose weight – I will be so fucking angry at the world. At my body. At the unfairness of it. There is only one reward for not eating my favorite food and not drinking my favorite beverages – weight loss.
Yeah, I know. My liver will thank me and so will my arteries.
My only pleasure left will be avocados.
Everyone’s got a theory about weight loss. All I know is that it used to be simple. If I wanted to lose weight I ate less cheese, ate smaller portions, drank less alcohol, and got more exercise. Simple. No complicated schemes where-in I eat many small meals a day or don’t eat after a certain hour or eat special foods or leave out entire food groups. It was just simple. It worked.
I really can’t bear to be this fat any more. I’m making efforts but I look like a person making no effort. And how could I possibly get BIGGER after cutting out cheese?! It defies science. I hate my body so much right now that I want to hurt it. I hate it so much that looking in the mirror feels like getting punched in the face – I want to cry. Sometimes I want to throw up.
So. I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing. After next week I’ll be doing more. After that – if my weight doesn’t budge, or if it goes up, I will demand a shitload of medical tests. Incidentally – I don’t have a scale (can’t find the one we had) so I’m not basing this on specific numbers. I’m basing this on how my clothes DON’T fit well. My waistbands should feel more loose – not more tight. The rolls down my back should feel lighter and smaller – not more prominent.
It’s hard to ignore these feelings when I have to wear this body all day long every single day. There’s no break from it. That’s the problem with bodies. You have to BE IN IT ALL THE TIME. So if you hate it – well – it’s hard to ignore it. I would just like to step out of my skin.
That’s what I want for Christmas.
I want a break from my body.
It’s a good thing I’ll be able to get therapy from a psychologist soon.
This week I have my first psychiatrist visit at Kaiser.
I hope someday I’ll be looking back at this post from the other side. Without fat rolls. I hope I’ll look back and be amazed at how I could have not managed to see the change ahead of me. I hope I’ll look back and feel truly grateful not to be carrying the weight of two bodies on one set of bones.