I am officially off my diet. Corn tamales and chicken quesadillas with extra sour cream, and three margaritas from Pink Taco; a double-double, cheeseburger with fries from In-N-Out burger joint; chocolate chip cookies – the oven baked kind in the blue pack; Barq’s Rootbeer, Coca-cola, Snapple Raspberry and Lemon Iced Tea (with green and black tea leaves); Ms. Vickie’s BBQ chips; a #6 combo from McDonald’s hold the cheese, add pickles and ketchup; cheesesticks from Carl’s Jr.; Pizza Mia (which was not worth the calories); two glasses of red wine (which was definitely worth the calories); a Bacardi & Coke; and as of this morning, a blueberry muffin from the cafe inside my office building. Yes, I have been keeping stock of all the junk I’m eating. I always make mental notes when I’m sabotaging the business of watching my caloric intake and cleaning up my act. Call it years of ingrained Catholic guilt. Call it what you want. I’m systematically programmed to assess behavior contrary to the desired productivity and positive end result in my life. If you think I’m kidding, I’ve been assessing my un-wed pregnancy for a decade and a half plus two. Satisfied? While I am extremely forgiving of myself and others, I don’t ignore the damage.
I’m not sure what kicked it off this time. Could have been PMS. I blame lots of sh*t on PMS. You should try it sometimes. If you’re a girl, it totally works. If you’re a guy, it’s so preposterous, it works even better. I’m a maniac in the gym. And I have a pretty decent body (reference: previous post Hair/Azz combination). I love exercise. In every area of my life there is a quest for balance. Exercise is no exception. I’m what I like to call a 100 percenter. I’m either all in or all out. You will RARELY catch me giving something a half-effort. I’m passionate about everything I do. So, when I commit to exercise, it’s nothing for me to do 12.5 miles spread between the elliptical machine, the bike and the treadmill. I can go to the gym at 6 in the morning or at 10 at night. It doesn’t matter to me. Admittedly, I’ve found it increasingly difficult to walk through the gym doors any day this week after consuming an inordinate amount of ridiculousness since last Thursday evening. (Of course I know exactly when the tomfoolery began. Didn’t you read the first paragraph? I always know!) Thankfully, tomorrow it will all be over. I’ve repented; I’ve written; I’ve purged – through repentance and writing, I’m not bulimic. Tomorrow is a new day – a chance for a new beginning.
I’ve long since admitted to myself that I love food. Some people love drugs and alcohol. I love good food. In life I believe we make justifications for those things we desire which contain some form of guilt. As I was driving yesterday, I thought about that justification intently. I could be thinner. I could be fanatical about the food I consume and the sized clothing I wear. I’m not. At the end of the day, I’m a good person. I mean a really good person. I give strangers directions. I walk old people across the street. I give random kids ABC flashcards. I know all the cashiers at the local grocery store by name. I once found a cell phone on Santa Monica beach, called the last out-going number, located the owner and returned the phone. He said, “No one does this.” I laughed and retorted, “Of course people do. I just did.” Yes, I’m tooting my own horn damnit! Can’t you hear it? It sounds wonderful! My retribution for overindulgence is this: There are lots of skinny, mean-ass people in this world. I’m not one of them.
So, I fell off the wagon and picked up three pounds in the process. It’s not the end of the world. I’ll pick myself up, dust myself off, grab a bag of carrots, and start over again. Carrots are good for eyesight, good for digestion, and good for the soul. Carrots: the new source of salvation! Just kidding. The last thing I need after a week of unhealthy food choices is to be negligent in the one area that keeps me grounded – my faith. My faith allows me the power to forgive myself for bad choices. It allows me the power to forgive others even when I’d rather stand in judgment of them. It allows me to have my cake and eat it too, as long as I keep myself in check. It encourages introspection, adjustment, and realignment. It helps keep me balanced. In a world filled with burger joints, refined sugar and chocolate, I relish balance. Salut!
Persnickety Self-Adjustment: Even when you think it’s bad, it’s not so bad.