Friday, November 29, 2013

Day One, Not Fun

Started the day with the best of intentions. Packed a balanced, nutritious lunch. And then got yelled at by the geriatric, female Scrooge I currently with for.  In front of my child.

Not. Cool.

So what was my response? Yell back? Risk an assault charge and punch her face? Grab my son's hand and peel rubber down the driveway?

The answer was none of the above. I spoke calmly but internally I ragged all damn day.

And being an emotional eater, I decided to dull my anger temporarily by eating an entire medium size veggie pizza for dinner. And now i'm angry at myself, not just her.

Hope day 2 goes better.

Thursday, November 28, 2013

This Turkey is Stuffed

Today's feast was hosted by a lovely friend.  It was a memorable time; I drank some very yummy spiced wines, ate far too much pork/lamb sausage cornbread dressing, and lost count of how many times I laughed.

It was fantastic. I wish I could have stock-piled the leftovers, but I can't/didn't. If i'm going to be serious about getting rid of my excess giblets, pardon the pun, I've got to go cold turkey.

I should get to bed before my food baby settles and I decide that, yes I can find some room in my overstuffed stomach for some Halloween candy.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Why Weight

Things I am sick of
  • The current Administration
  • The cost of gas
  • The drug/flop house across the street
  • My weight
  • Christmas shopping traffic on Rt. 3
  • The mouse that keeps out outwitting every trap and poison I set out.  He shat a ring around the last trap.
  • My feet being cold all winter long.  I wear 2 pairs of socks with my shoes, nuthin doing son. 
And I realize and admit that the only damn thing I can control is my weight.  I mean, if I were worth my weight in gold, I'd be checking myself into the bank right away.

So here I am on the eve of the eve of Thanksgiving, the mother of all holidays.  I love to eat.  The kitchen was the focal point in my Gonga's house, as it is at my mom's.  We loved to cook and loved to eat even more.  I have so many happy childhood memories of spending the two days preceding Thanksgiving staying at my grandmother's house and cooking, which began just after breakfast and lasted way past dinner. 

Me, age 12, mixing cornbread dressing in cooler.  Because there isn't a bowl big enough.
Mounds of celery and onion simmering in sticks of butter for the multiple pans of dressing.  The food processor pulsating whole cranberries to bits.  Mince meat and pumpkin pies cooling on top of the washer and dryer.  If I concentrate hard enough, I can still smell the leftover pie crusts, slather with butter, cinnamon, and sugar baking in the oven.

I shudder to think of the amount of glorious calories I'll be inhaling as I feast on honey-brined turkey, pumpkin pie, cranberry relish, marshmallow salad, and stuffing.

But I can't take it any longer.  When I blew out my knee in '08, I knew I was going to have problems with it every winter.  And it's only been coldish weather for 3 weeks and I'm already popping ibuprofen like House pops Vicodin.  I know if I don't get my weight down and my body back in shape I'll be limping along on my cane like I was five years ago.  (And it won't be the cool limp that lands me a flatmate, ala Watson running through the streets with Sherlock).

It's all fun and games the next two days.  Friday, the bitching begins.

Monday, November 25, 2013

Wibley Wobbley Timey Wimey Stuff

It was 14 years ago this week.  That's a long time.

Why did I remember it today?  What triggered my mind to flashback to that night?

The night I thought I was going to dieThe night I was attacked assaulted raped.

And when I didn't die that night, I wanted to kill myself.

Why did my brain have to go there today?  All day I've been reminding myself to "stay present," that I'm not trapped in a car on a freezing cold November night 14 years ago.

Today has been a struggle.

Time is not linear.  Especially when you have PTSD.

Source: H.P.Holo