Lunch: Subway roast beef, provolone, lots of veggies, no dressing or mustard or other junk
Dinner: Steak, meatloaf, green beans, mixed vegetables, carrots, sugar-free fudge frozen thing, 3 cans of diet orange soda
So, anyway, the day went well, until the friend who is, I guess not my friend showed up. We had a brief conversation and I left because it just makes me so sad and I keep pulling up my big girl panties and trying to move beyond this and, gosh, I just cannot pull those panties up any further without risking a trip to the emergency room.
Why is this so difficult for me? I am foolish. I really am. I should not be caring about someone who is willing to fuck me over without a second thought and who finds it amazing that I would have the nerve to be sensitive about it. You know, I just have to wonder why I even care about this. And, this goes way beyond betrayal and marginalization and all that stuff. Like I said, foolish, that is me.
So, I am driving home and I have a huge craving for ice cream. I think about stopping for a cone or something at Dairy Queen, but it is not on my way home and I think that I will stop at the grocery store to buy some. I start in saying, aloud, that I deserve to be healthy and I deserve to be slimmer and weigh less and deserve to have healthy lungs and heart and deserve to have less pain in my knees, hip and feet and I deserve to be healthy.
I stop at the grocery store and I fill my cart with diet soft drinks. Orange (cans), cola (bottles) and three kinds of diet Snapple, all fruit flavors. Next stop is the meat case where I buy three steaks, on sale and lots cheaper than the amount of ice cream that I would be more than happy to eat. Meat is next to the bakery. How mean is that? I walk past it, gazing longingly at the breads and death by chocolate cake and lemon bars and fruit tarts and tolero rolls and triple chocolate muffins and croissants. Lordy. There were other things that I do not even like and they looked great, too. But, I kept on walking to the dairy section to get more eggs. Coming around the front end I pass the liquor department and think, "Oh, a nice glass of bourbon would be nice," and I finally cave and turn right into the frozen treat aisle. I look at all of it and grab a box of sugar-free fudge things.
Then, I go directly to the check-out lanes, tossing two 86% cocoa chocolate bars on top of everything else, pay for my stuff and go home. Narrow escape, yes? No. Once home, I broil the steak, cook some frozen green beans, portion out some of the steak for the cats, sprinkle a little fleur de sel on the rest and eat. Really, really good, mostly because I did not, for once, overcook the meat.
Half an hour later I am starving, so I get one of those fudge things. Twenty minutes later I am starving so I have two cans of that orange soda and a couple of ounces of tumbled carrots. Finishing the last can, I am starving. It has now been ninety minutes since I had dinner and I am hungry. I go and stand in front of the refrigerator, just daring myself to open it. I do not, but I do open the freezer. I take out some frozen meatloaf and a little baggie of mixed vegetables, leftovers from who know when, nuke them, eat them and wait. I have another orange soda. I wait. It has now been two hours and I think that I am finally finished eating for the night. Another orange soda, just opened, to take my meds.
For dinner I ate two portions of steak (half was supposed to be for lunch tomorrow), a portion of meat loaf, four portions of vegetables, a frozen fudge thing and am now on my 4th soda. Good freaking grief.
And, why? Because I am heartsick at this whole, stoopid friend thing and I am a freaking emotional eater. This is why I need to join a program or get a therapist or some damn thing.
You know, I recognized that I was over-reactive and hungry because I was upset on the drive home. I planned on healthy food and bought mostly that, if you discount the chocolate (which I still have not eaten, by the way, and have no desire for) and the diet sodas. I did all kinds of positive self-talk and affirmed the crap out of myself and I still was ravenous to fill that empty space and fill it I did, with food. I am fine now, but when it was happening I was frantic with hunger.
I am not a kid. I am smart enough to figure this out, with or without a group or program or shrink. I am. I am hoping that tonight was some kind of liminal experience and that I learned whatever I was intended to learn and that I can hold on to whatever that was. I feel like I am running in circles, a bit of forward movement, but not straight ahead, rounding back on myself to begin again, over and over. I want this 100 days to be a time for developing new habits, ones that will serve me instead of serving me cake and chips and dip. Tonight felt like a fail when I was caught in its thrall, but now it feels like a gift.
I can do this. I can...I can...I can. I am. I believe in myself, even if there is not anyone else who does. I deserve this getting healthier thing. I do.
GP, interestingly enough, is supportive of this. Huh.
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