My husband bought delicious seven layer dip and tortilla chips and pastry and other delights this afternoon at the grocery store. Then he stopped and got two pizzas. I bought celery and salad. He ate some of his pizza while I had salad, and now is having a nap. He's left me all alone out here with all those CALORIES. It is so hard to resist when they're so close.
You know how when you're at work, you wish you were home because you could be listening to music, writing, working on a project, reading, even playing around with decorating the house? All those creative things, fulfilling, and fun. Sometimes goofy things I like to do when alone, like putting together outfits to wear to the office in the upcoming week. Then when it's the weekend and you've got time, you're sitting here, doing none of that. Just sitting here, listening to the calories, calling, calling...
I’d answer that call, I really would, but there was already an incident with some chocolate bars earlier. Maybe eating a virtuous dinner of spinach salad and chicken will cancel it out. And whoa—things are exciting around here—I have new lip gloss. And a new pillow.
A new decorative pillow for the bed. Because I’m bored with the house. It’s the January blahs. I want to change the furniture around, but my husband—the one who buys fattening food I shouldn’t eat, and then leaves me alone with it—says that things in the living room and bedroom are optimally set up now, and he doesn’t want them changed. To be fair, with the placement of cable outlets and doors and windows, there is only so much leeway. Once you put the TV in place (oh, hail, the great and glorious TV, without which, we could never do, all objects of furniture must face and worship the great and glorious…) then the couch follows, so does the coffee table, end table, bookshelves, and so on. Likewise with the bedroom. There’s only one wall where there’s no window (it would be too drafty against the window, apparently, and we don’t have a headboard, anyway, so how would I sit and read or watch and hail the all glorious and ever-giving boob tube?) or closet or bathroom door. So I can’t change the furniture around in either of those rooms. The den? Well, maybe. I settled for tidying it up. Then for tidying and cleaning the house in general.
If it can’t be all new and different, at least it’s cleaner. I’ve been cleaning. I actually went shopping after work on Friday (I honestly don’t go shopping much) in search of home décor items to perk up the surroundings. I’d never been to Pier 1 so off I went, in search of creative, quirky and beautiful. I just found overpriced and kind of ugly. Everything out there is chocolate and cocoa and gold and red, it seems, which just aren’t the colours of our stuff, though from what new condos I’ve seen, they are au current. A currant? Current? I should avoid pretentious semi-French. I obtained a pillow and two tabletop Christmas thingees. And a can of make-your-house-smell-nice stuff. Whee! What a spree. The decorative pillow, however, is a great match for our comforter and the picture on the wall above the bed. One tiny step closer to stylish. Because to really be stylish and have a truly grown-up house would put a big hurt on the Visa bill. Which I am going to pay down if it kills me.
See? I haven’t thought about the delicious seven-layer dip in at least five minutes.
I want to move. I’m bored with our house. I have house envy. Heck, I have condo envy. But we can’t afford to move. So if we finally do all the home improvement jobs—
You know, maybe if I weren’t so cold, I wouldn’t be so tempted by the delicious, delicious seven-layer dip. I think I shall put the kettle on.
So maybe if I kept the house all clean and tidy and we finally got to finishing the home improvement jobs and then when the painting’s finally done and I put up some pictures. Maybe things will be better then. Well, it will probably be summer by then, and I’ll be outside, dissatisfied with the yard.
After a couple of shampoos, it's not as bad as I thought it was. It's still more black than brown, but I've changed my face powder (to my natural ivory) and am wearing darker, very red lipstick--and I'm going with it for now!
Wearing strong, jewel-toned colours seems to help (although that's not very goth-y) and I'm okay with the hair, I think.
Well, I wanted a change... :)
Belladonna
Raven
Shadow
Savannah
I'm goth, but I don't really want to be. So, I was tired of the auburn shade I've been colouring my hair for the past few years, and besides, it didn't seem to stick to the grey at the roots near my face. (The middle and ends of my hair were always nice and dark, but then I had light reddish wash grey at the top, where it's most noticable.)
So I picked a darker shade, looking for a change. →[More:]
I'm used to leaving the old shade on for 45-50 minutes to cover the grey, so...
I left the new dark brown shade on for the same amount of time. (Did I do a mirror check to see what the goop looked like? No, of course not--I was too busy on the internet.)
And, yes, you guessed it. I've got black hair. I don't really want black hair. I keep getting surprised by myself in the mirror. People have told me it's not that bad, actually (I have pale skin and hazel eyes, so it's not too far from what could work with my colouring).
It's probably not a good idea to re-colour it, I know. I've read: wash with Prell (is that a shampoo or a dish soap?) and wash with dish soap.
I will probably try re-colouring in about four weeks.
Not leaving it on for 45 minutes this time, though.
Similar tales of woe? What would other bunnies do?
Also, at Costco, we got a large box of Annie's organic BUNNY SNACKS, and I've been having a BUNNY SNACK every day at work, which makes me a happy bunny. With unhappy goth hair.
I'm having trouble with the weekends. I'm having trouble with not seeing the scale go down. I'm having trouble with the last box of Christmas chocolate.
I weigh myself and get depressed. It's hard to resist the temptation to step on the scale daily when you're trying to lose weight. I want to see it go down, especially if I feel I've been virtuous the day before. That's asking too much too fast. I know that logically, but...
I'm not going to find I've lost two pounds just because the previous day I ate fruit for snacks and worked out. It took a lot longer than a few days to gain this extra weight. Years.
And if the scale has gone up, despite my efforts at a more healthy lifestyle, that just seems to push me into the "what's the friggin' point--forget it" attitude. And that's how I feel now.
If Oprah can't keep it off, with a gazillion dollars and a personal chef, what chance do I have?
Weighing weekly, which I will now try to do instead, is probably a better way of reminding myself that this is a long process, and to keep focused on goals which are more distant than than the instant gratification of whatever's in the kitchen cupboards.
Back on the diet healthy eating program again after the Sunday Slipups. I actually enjoyed my dinner last night--chicken breast, no sauce.
Broccoli with a careful, modest amount of cheddar melted on it.
I couldn't finish my chicken. 
So I put it away.
But then I ate some more cheese and crackers. Not so good.
But no snacking!
Instead, I initiated sex. That was something fun to do that didn't involve mindless eating and can only be a good thing for our marriage.
Leaving food unfinished--the thing that is hard for both my husband and I (who's on a reduced sugar regime these days) is to remember that seriously, no one is going to take our food away and never give it to us again if we don't finish something. STOP when we're full. Stick it in the fridge, and if you're hungry later, eat it then. We're employed. We enjoy a very comfortable standard of living compared to parts of the rest of the world. There will always be more food for us. I don't have to eat it all and eat it all NOW.
Even if it's something high-calorie, I must try and remember that I can have a little. A little. And enjoy it. And there will be more later.
After work tonight, I have a cauliflower to prep and I must make some more chicken breasts. If I have lean protein and a vegetable, then it's just a matter of heating it up, and there's dinner, no excuses.
I'm also trying to follow these notions:
* If you're hungry, eat.
* But don't eat unless you're hungry. (Not when you're bored, stressed, sad, or interestingly--thirsty.)
* Slow down and really enjoy your food.
* When you're full--stop.
* Make it yourself--you know what is in it then (for example, I don't
add high fructose corn syrup to things that don't need to be sweet when
I cook at home!)
I've also allowed myself unlimited amounts of fruits and vegetables. Since I'm no longer gorging on Christmas goodies and chocolates, once again, fruit has become satisfyingly sweet. And filling!
Teeny tiny mandarin oranges. Or maybe they're really another kind of citrus fruit. Anyway, they're teeny and sweet and juicy and delicious.
They're better than candy. Better.
US-slanted, but well worth a read.
From the article:
5. SHANGHAIED SLAVES CONSTRUCT US EMBASSY IN IRAQ
Part of the permanent infrastructure the United States is erecting in Iraq includes the world’s largest embassy, built on Green Zone acreage equal to that of Vatican City. The $592 million job was awarded in 2005 to First Kuwaiti Trading and Contracting. Though much of the project’s management is staffed by Americans, most of the workers are from small or developing countries like the Philippines, India, and Pakistan and, according to David Phinney of CorpWatch ? a Bay Area organization that investigates and exposes corporate environmental crimes, fraud, corruption, and violations of human rights ? are recruited under false pretenses. At the airport, their boarding passes read Dubai. Their passports are stamped Dubai. But when they get off the plane, they’re in Baghdad.
Once on site, they’re often beaten and paid as little as $10 to $30 a day, CorpWatch concludes. Injured workers are dosed with heavy-duty painkillers and sent back on the job. Lodging is crowded, and food is substandard. One ex-foreman, who’s worked on five other US embassies around the world, said, “I’ve never seen a project more fucked up. Every US labor law was broken.”
Oh, you evil potato chips. The siren lure of potato chips. Now that I've eaten you all, will you stop haunting me? It's only January 4th and I fell off the wagon already. Chocolate and chips. Damn them. Damn me.
Another climb up tomorrow morning. It gets harder and harder... But I don't like the way I feel when I overeat and eat the wrong things.
I must remember: I don't like the way I feel.
I love potato chips. Ripple or not, I love potato chips. I like them plain, best of all. I just want potato, salt, oil and crunch. I crave potato chips.
There is a big bag of unopened potato chips in the kitchen cupboard. Ripple, in fact. Plain ripple. They are calling me... calling me... calling me.
I finally caved. January 3, 2009 and I caved in.
However, this time I turned the bag around, and read the suggested serving and calorie count. 280 calories, I believe, for approximately 19 chips. I counted out 19 chips, one by one, into the bowl. We are probably looking at 350 calories, though, because I picked nice big chips. You know, the nice big chips at the top of the bag when it's brand new.
I ate all 19 chips while reading Stephen King. (Hey, it was great for me at 14 and at 43 not all that much seems to have changed...)
Old me: eat until 1) bag is empty 2) I feel sick.
2009: eat and enjoy all 19 chips and then stop. Do not refill bowl.
Oh, potato chips. I love you so very much.
December 31 slipped over into January 1st like the rain turned to snow. It was a cold and wet night, and for once, I had absolutely no desire to be out and about, trying to lead some sort of glamorous life. There was puttering around the house, eating the last Chinese food leftovers, and drinking some sparkling wine. The last was really good, but I was too full to enjoy it. And I didn't really enjoy the potato chips I snacked on, either, counting down to midnight and The Diet.
Of course, it's past three in the afternoon on New Year's Day, and there's a large, unopened, very tempting bag of chips in the cupboard. What I disdained yesterday when I said I could have it, I now crave today since I said I couldn't. And time, so fleet otherwise, has certainly slowed. Just quit smoking (not that I have this particular New Year) or go on a diet, and time slows to a crawl.
My husband's sick, the dog's been bathed, the house is fairly in order, and I just want to eat. No matter how I was looking forward to a new start, a purge, a new lifestyle, dramatic change (all of which I know just set me up for failure) now that January is here and I'm to eat wisely, healthily, and much less heartily, I wish I could just pick up that bag of chips and dive into it while reading a book and just... I guess it's escape. I have a list of things to do, from chores to fun, and I don't want to do any of them. I just want to make it through the first day, week, month.
I look at my resolutions, and it's always the same: lose weight, quit smoking, save money, get organised.
I look at the pictures I took in January of 2006 and realise that a year went by, and then it was January 2007 and I was still the same weight. Then it's January 2008 and really I was going to do it this year.
And it's January 2009 and time goes by whether I do it or not. What if I'd stuck to it, and lost 3 pounds a month for three years?
Oh, if only.
The thing that's so discouraging is that I've done this before--twice. And gained it all back. And it was so hard to lose it, and yet... it came back. You would think that something that took so much pain, effort, denial and work would never ever allow me to lose my grip on it, but I did. I let go, let myself go, and here I am: 43 and fat.
Fat, fat, fat.
And every cable channel seems to be running either something on the super morbidly obese or Fat in America or that crone McKeith screeching.
I know, I know--turn off the television and go for a walk.
Simple wisdom to solve more than one issue.
