Don't delude yourself, you ain't goin' nowhere

"Oh wow!  Caramelized bananas?!  How do you make that?!"

"Tahini and honey on sweet potatoes?!  That sounds so good, I'll add that to my list!"

"Avocado pudding?!  No way?!  I want to try that!"

Yeah, you do.  But you won't.  Because I know you, I know you're all talk, that you never man up and do it.  That you're too afraid to ever take a step.  That you're too scared to live your life.

Don't tell me what you want to do, I don't want to hear it.  You're a portrait of disappointments and a lifetime of fear.  I can't make you change and I know now you won't, so don't talk like you will.

Because that's the difference between me and you.  When I say something I do it, I step up and take the plunge, I take a breath and then leap off the edge.  I dive into the deep end without a flotation device, I walk into the dark without knowing what's ahead.  I take the risk between sink or swim, between life or death.  Sure it could end badly...but at least I fucking tried.

Don't come to me and whine, don't ask for my advice.  If you're unwilling to change then there's nothing I can do.  I'm not a genie and I'm not going to tell you you're okay, cuz you're not.  You're sick and you're stubborn and you're a scared little girl.

So put up or shut up.  It's time to move on.  Move it or lose it and leave me alone.

Racing

Sometimes I get so scared.

I try to run from my problems, I try to distance myself from them, but always I end up like a mouse on a wheel.  I run and I run and I run but they never leave, they never go away.  That darkness, that shapeless nightmare, it's always right on my heels, waiting for me to stop so it can swoop down and overtake me.  The moment I pause to catch my breath it's there, wrapping it's sheathing cloak around me.  I try to fight but it's too strong, I try to move but it's too late.  It suffocates me when I'm screaming for air, it binds me when I'm thrashing to be free.  It's always there, it's always there, never changing, never ceasing.

And so I don't stop.  I can't stop.  I run and I run and I run until my heart gives out, until my mind shuts off, until there's nothing left but oblivion.  I have no destination, I have no grand purpose, I have only the moment, the hour, the day after day.  The ground under my feet that passes so fleetingly away.  Never stop lest I break, never think lest I feel.  Never feel lest I hurt, and the hurt I can't bear.

Where is the end?

Gorge

If I weren't me I would hate me. 

Do you want to know why? 

Because I can EAT.  I can eat 3000 calories a day and not gain a pound.  I follow a meal plan that gives me three meals and three snacks.  600 calories, 300 calories, another 600, then 400 more, 800 for dinner, and another little 300 treat for dessert.  Do you know what that's like? Do you know how much food that is when you're eating healthy foods and not big macs and fries?

Let me tell you.

I start my day with a peanut butter and honey sandwich and a bowl of cottage cheese with diced melon.  And not a small bowl or only a drizzle of honey...I'm talking full servings here, usually more than.  Big bowls and double tablespoons.  None of this namby pamby "moderation" shit.

Then a couple hours later I'll have a bowl of oatmeal with a diced apple and peanut flour.  A big bowl of thick rolled oats and sticky peanutty protein.

Then a couple hours after that I have a chicken and swiss cheese sandwich with a heaping pile of cranberry sauce on the top, enough to soak through the bun and make it a big gooey platter of a sandwich.  With a side of steamed broccoli and cauliflower and a bowl of yogurt with raspberries, this consitutes my lunch. 

Give it a couple more hours and then I'll have a bowl of granola cereal with milk and blueberries.  Nothing fancy, but delicious.

Then for dinner I have a bowl of grilled shrimp with veggies and rice. And a peanut butter and banana milkshake.

A couple more hours and it's snacktime once more.  This time I have a piece of Godiva chocolate and large brownie with Nutella on the top.

It sounds nice doesn't it?  All that food?  Well, it is. And I need to eat even more cuz I'm still not gaining.  So be jealous...be jealous.

Have a nice day!

Don't look at me

I was in New Orleans, leaving a McDonalds on Canal Street.  It was large and busy, located on the border of the business and entertainment districts, and half-filled with clearly poor or homeless people.  My parents had just eaten lunch; an angus wrap for my mom, a Big Mac and fries for my dad.  I ate nothing.  My blood sugar was low, my body felt weak, I hardly had the energy to speak.  But they wanted to go to McDonald's, of all places, a place where there was not one thing on the menu I would eat.  As they threw away their wrappers and we edged around the crowd towards the exit, we passed a table of women eating their lunch.  I instinctually averted my gaze, but I could feel their eyes on me.  When I was a few feet away I heard one comment in a half-whisper, "that girl is so thin!". What her connotation behind this was, I don't know.  She sounded shocked above all else, not necessarily condescending or jealous.  But I turned around nonetheless.  I saw all five of the women at the table looking at me and I fixed my gaze on the one who had spoken.  For two seconds I locked eyes with her, packing as much venom into my nonverbal conveyance as possible, before I turned slowly towards the door and walked out of the restaurant. 

And people can't understand why I hate going out in public.

Hello

Fuck you.

Red Lobster? Try blue whale.

"Butter and sour cream?" asked the waitress.

"Yes, of course!" My sister laughed and shut her menu.  "it's just one baked potato, it won't kill me" my sister said, smiling, as she grabbed a cheddar bay biscuit out of the complimentary basket famously offered at every Red Lobster in the world.  Despite having never lost her 60 pounds of baby weight and supposedly being on Weight Watchers, she saw no problem with ordering a baked potato with all the fixings.

I said nothing.  I set my mouth into an immobile grin and vowed to say nothing.  But in my mind I heard everything I wanted to say, everything I felt to be true.

"But it's not 'just one baked potato'.  It's a part of a whole.  You have one baked potato, you have one slice of cake, you have one cheeseburger, but altogether you have a whole bunch of CRAP.  Maybe it'd be alright if it really WAS just one baked potato, if you didn't have the cake and the burger or the chips and the chocolate, but it won't be.  And honestly, who would want it to be?  Who would want to choose just one indulgence and bypass everything else?  Sure, you can say 'oh there are healthy versions of cake and fries!  There are soy burgers and low fat cheese!' but who are you kidding?  We all know it's not the same.  Nothing tastes as good as the rich, greasy slab of authentic aged cheddar atop a thick hunk of Grade A angus ground beef.  Low fat ice cream is nothing compared to the decadent creaminess of Ben and Jerry's, no matter what you tell yourself. 

I don't want 'just one baked potato'.  I want it ALL.  I want the potato and the burgers and the ice cream and the fried chicken and the white chocolate and the pancakes with maple syrup and the milkshake and the fettucini alfredo.  And I don't want 'just a taste' or a 'portion controlled' amount.  I want as much as I can eat, I want as much as my stomach can hold without making me sick.  Or maybe even enough to make me sick so that I can go back and eat some more. But I can't do this. Not unless I want to be a potential candidate for The Biggest Loser or True Life: I weigh 450 pounds. 

So what solution is there?  If I eat just a little of what I really want, I'll be fine, yeah, I won't gain weight.  But I'm left hungry.  I'm left feeling deprived, having known the taste of that warm melted butter on my tongue and that salty fry in my belly, but only able to look at the rest of what I want with an inflamed longing.  But what if I don't eat any of it at all?  What if I make it so that I don't even remember the taste, don't even consider taking a bite?  If I make it so that there are so many 'just ones' that I've passed up that I can now have as many as I want?  Now doesn't that sound nice?

So you go on and eat your baked potato.  Eat it and then salivate longingly after the chocolate lava cake you want, or perhaps eat it and then have the lava cake, too, remaining fat and unhappy in your unchanging body. I'll take my broccoli and shrimp cocktail, thanks.

Fuck this shit, I don't need a title

You know what?

I lied.  This blog is isn't going public.  Not yet.  I don't care, I like it being all mine.  Here's to logging some of my more tasty eats so I don't forget them as ideas for future noms...

 Grilled Cheese n' PB

 Turkey CranCreamCheesewich

 Sweet tater with peanut butter

 Bread pudding pre-bake

And post bake!

Privacy in underrated.