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| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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Demonic Punishment
I was talking to The Demon Who Always Does The Right Thing yesterday about food. (Yes, it's a food entry--and not a very interesting one, really, so maybe go read conpalabras or Weetabix if you want interesting, okay?) I was telling her about how, the other night, after gorging myself on sushi, that we went out for coffee and dessert and I was so full that my stomach hurt and I felt guilty for having eaten so much and I was so filled with fear that having feasted on sushi was going to be the first step to gaining all the weight back that I walked into the coffee shop and thought, just go into the bathroom and throw it up. Just throw it up. So I excused myself--to Max, as he was the only one at the table because The Boy was over talking to his Aikido instructor and Ama had not yet joined us--and I went into the bathroom. And I put my finger down my throat. And I started to actually throw up a meal. And then I caught myself being one of those fucking women who throw up after meals. So I stopped myself and tried to determine what punishment would be necessary in order to teach myself a lesson about not being that kind of woman. So I made myself eat dessert. I had a big decorated cookie and a cup of coffee. And I ate the whole cookie (usually I split them with Max), which doesn't sound like much, but it's the second whole cookie that I've had in over a year. (The first one, oddly, I ate the night I chickened out on the solo Aisho-san viewing). So The Demon and I talked about this desire, this strategy, this desire to purge after binging. And she told me about how, when she was with Ama, how their relationship was largely food based and how she used to get the same urge after a terrible meal and how it was, for her, all related to wanting the relationship to get better. I think in my case, I want to not get back to three-hundred and seventy pounds, but it's the same damn desire for a quick fix. And I know there ain't no such thing and I have to guard against trying to find one that may work in the short term. [And I'll just insert a quick paraphrased thought from Kevyn Aucoin here: A beautiful face doesn't make up for an ugly soul.] And The Demon compared my new self to having a new pet. I told her that I hadn't ever weighed as little as I do now in my adult life. And she made the comparison and said, "It's like when you get a new pet. You have to learn how to feed it and what it eats." (And I thought instantly of Mayflower's habitual killing of the little delicate rainforest frogs that she loves so much that she can't help putting them in a cage and, over the course of weeks or months, killing them by some error in their care.) I don't know yet, and will only learn through trial and error, how to feed this new body and how to care for it both physically and emotionally. I'm learning (slowly) how to listen to myself and to discern what signals mean. I'm learning to trust myself with food and not have these crazy moments when I let myself eat until I feel I have to throw up. I'm learning that exercise is more than just body candy; that I feel better mentally when I move. There's all kinds of things. And we were sitting inside the coffee shop as we talked about those things. But earlier, we had been forced to an outside table--because of the rain, all the inside tables were taken. We had just sat, she with her coffee, me with my pot of tea. And we were chatting idly. I think I asked her if she wanted to start right in on my comments of her grad school application essay and she made to answer and then I stopped. I told her why, and then couldn't concentrate for a moment. Then I could, but it was not the same. Not for a bit anyway. But it's okay now, I think. Or at least I've remembered that it's going to be okay.
More lies:
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