Body Weight and Food and Stuff

17 Jun

Okay, shifting gears here. Because I like to change it up you know… angsty poetry to carefree musings. So carefree musings it is.

I haven’t spoken much about weight yet, but merg the slave-driving ways of 40 min light elliptical machines on a Saturday night (shut up– so I decided not to have friends anymore and I’m not dating, so sue me) amongst “is-he-drunk-or-is-he-comatose” old man and sweat-slicked free-weights is forcing my hand.

So today I ate: a sticky bun and a half (pretty sister and I split the second helping– preserving our girlish figures and all), egg/cheese/ham thing, yogurt with fruit, more egg thing, a pork-chop, and popcorn. With lots of diet coke. As I am writing this I am blushing and trying to decide if “more egg thing” makes me sound fat. 

Can you see it?

“Honey– does this more egg thing make me sound fat?” 

“uh, um, well…”

Yes, yes it does. Fuck.

Well, I am trying. And by trying I mean I am trying to be healthy without thinking about being healthy which doesn’t work. I have to think about it. I have to take out the stupid pen and write it in my stupid notebook with the stupid calories per gram or else I just say whatever, pass me another blue moon. yes, number four. No, I’d rather not just have a diet coke. Pause. Double fist diet coke and blue moon, and feel hella unqualified to comment on health.

But my grams today refused popcorn saying she was trying to lose weight. Homegirl is 82 years old and spry as a 12 year old prepubescent playing Peter Pan.

“When, grandma, have you not been ‘trying to loose weight’?”

Same question for myself echoing in my head. Coupled with my history of bulimia (a long long time ago) and disordered eating to cope with shit and punish myself, I want to do it healthfully and not “feast or famine” it. So gym with comatose guy it is. 

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