Yes, I skipped a day of the blog. God rested on Sunday so I should be allowed to as well. That is all I'm going to say about that. Humph.
I just read this and cracked up: "I Wish Someone would Do Something About How Fat I Am". Why is it so funny? To me, because it hits so close to home. I sat around for years just knowing that I was packing on those pounds and did nothing...except blame: blame holidays, blame my health, blame work, blame my schedule, blame boredom, blame, blame, blame. I would go to bed at night so disappointed in myself over what I ate, feeling that acid churning in my stomach from the blend of Chic-Fil-A from breakfast, pizza from lunch and Mexican food from dinner. It was never enough, though, to keep me from doing it...day after day after day. I was like a squirrel packing away nuts for a long winter.
What was finally enough? What did it? I don't know for sure. Maybe knowing for sure that I was losing control over my weight as I had lost control over my smoking. I don't like losing control. I don't like people to ever get the impression I have lost control, even if I really am losing control. When you're fat, there is no hiding that you have lost control. It shows everywhere. Your clothes are too tight, you have three chins, you huff and puff going up and down stairs, your skin looks bad, you lose your energy.
I am ready to be in control again. I am in my happy Zen place. I am the warm, calm center of the Universe. And even though when you Google my zip code and 2,050,000 results for "restaurant" come up in .49 seconds, I vow to drive past them all.