What shall I write about today? They say (people like Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way, The Right to Write,) that the best time to write is in the morning, first thing when you get up, before you do anything else, even before you have to pee. They also say it is best to write when you feel the most resistance, when you think you have nothing to say. That supposedly results in your best work.
I’d have to agree with that. The stories I had the hardest times with have always been my strongest. The half-assed blogs I posted on a whim got the most responses, the most enjoyment from my limited audience. The stuff I think is my best usually bores people. Not always, but most of the time.
Okay, I still feel I have nothing to say, except that I feel fat today. Last night during our weekly Public Relations class, I was craving fries and gravy, and the grill was closed by the time I got to it during the break. I thought about A&W afterwards, since they make the best fast-food burgers and fries with gravy in the whole world. But then I thought, “Should I? It’s bad for me. I should go home and make something healthy, really, and save money.” Ah, what the heck, it’s a craving that won’t go away.
I asked Sara if she’d join me. As soon as I uttered the famous initials, she shouted with glee, “Oh! I have a coupon!” Our recent body dysmorphia and promises of eating better were transformed to a deep-fried, bacon-layered, gravy-dipping necessity. After all, we had a two-for-one teen burger coupon. We were saving money. Yum! It was all I could think about on the Skytrain ride there.
It was all I imagined and more. Hot, crispy fries dipped in creamy, brown gravy. The burger was divine, a juicy beef patty topped with melted cheese, crunchy bacon, ripe tomato and freshly toasted buns. Absolutely delicious. I had no regrets. I slept with stuffed delight, my all-day craving for salt and grease deeply satisified.
Then this morning came. I woke up feeling bloated, tired, foggy, gross. I stepped on the scale. I weighed five pounds more than I did yesterday morning. My gut turned in repulsion at the thought of five pounds of food just sitting there, slowly digesting, converting into body fat that will rest permanently on my thighs. My dysmorphic anxiety returned as I squeezed into unforgiving pants that stretched tautly across my ass. Great. Now I’m getting a lardy butt. Nice.
It’s amazing how a craving can take over all common sense. But even though I feel a tad pudgy, there is always hope. I can lose those five pounds in a day or two. That happened to me once, where I ate a huge dinner, gained five pounds, and lost it the next day. And there’s still that life-membership at Fit City For Women … right. I haven’t been there since, well, I don’t remember when. I sorely admit that I still need to get into shape and eat better, firm up my flabby middle tire and squishy thighs, but I’m not obese. Yet.
So for today’s menu, it’s a meager bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, vegetarian sandwich with an orange for lunch, and just a salad for dinner.
blaak sheep 