Simple Is Better

My S. O. likes to try to cheer me up when I’m spiraling down, which is sweet, and it would be great if that were the answer to my mental illness, but rather than climb into bed and try to sleep away my hell (which doesn’t work, but at least it’s warm in bed), I agreed to go out with him.

He had plans and it was fun to not know where we were going, but it turned out tickets were sold out for what he had planned. (Of course they were – I could have told him that.)

Aside from the asshole in my head, he rallied and told me we could eat out wherever I wanted.  Initially I chose a place that we’ve been to once before for coffee, and aside being good coffee, offered a simple menu of pizza, calzones, salads, and pastries, but my S. O. said anywhere, and I had never been to another, fancier, restaurant in the town, so off we went.

He got the blackened swordfish, and I opted for chicken pot pie, which was good, but heavy on the cream sauce in the filling.  The dessert menu included crème brûlée, an amazing dessert when done right.  Alas, it was a dense custard than the better pudding quality, but I still ate it, being a long time member of the ‘clean plate club’.  Sigh.

We soon wished we had saved half of what my S. O. spent and gone to the other place, but we couldn’t know until we tried, and soon after, the heaviness too much, I threw it all up.

Maybe that wouldn’t have happened if I weren’t having an episode, but I rarely eat rich foods anyway.

Perhaps a cleanse (and an exorcism) will make me well again.

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© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Abstractly Distracted’s Blog, 2010 – current

All I Want To Eat Is Crap

I have apples, oranges, cheese, yogurt, kale, lettuce, carrots, celery, onions, garlic, beans, rice, potatoes – and all I want to eat is junk.

If I could survive on chips and chocolate, I’d be a happy woman.  I try to diet, I do.  I try to make salmon and kale my best food friends, and I eat them like one being forced to eat sludge.  I made Maple-glazed salmon, faithfully executing the recipe, only to choke the shit down.  I nearly ate a box of cookies later to make up for it.

Why can’t I like what’s good for me?  Have you tried eating kale?  I think even cows pass it over because of all the chewing.

Sugar and caffeine, two of my favorite things in the world are slowly killing me.  One of my favorite people in the world died when she was 99 – and she lived a happy life eating her Georgia-peach pies and drinking pots full of coffee.

I exercise, and laugh, and play, and my waistline keeps increasing from all the love I shower myself with in the form of chips and hummus and guacamole.

Moderation.  I’m told that’s the key, but my brain doesn’t distinguish between ‘full’ and ‘time to stop eating’.  My mother is in her eighties, rail thin, and eats pints of ice cream at a time.  She has a fast metabolism, I do not.  I’d call her a bad word, but she’s my mother…

I’m doing the tricks to make my metabolism faster – taking specific herb and spice combinations, drinking water first thing in the morning, interval run/walking.  I can white-knuckle it with the best of them – not giving into cravings, until finally, I do – and then I’m off & running again.

I know there’s a better way, but my brain would like me to shut the hell up and keep the chocolate coming.

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© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Abstractly Distracted’s Blog, 2010 – current.