easing up on the reins/Zelda Lives!/The Rhythm of the Fried
I'm 2.4 pounds from my goal weight.
A funny thing happens this close to goal:I wouldn't call it narcolepsy, because it's more willful than that. But it isn't sheer teenage rebellion, either. Yes, there's a kind of fatigue underneath it all, a bit of the ol' too tired to care. I can't nail it with a word (or even two), but I will tell you this:
I can feel the part of me that wants to stop trying so hard. The part of me that feels done. The part that says this, right here, is good enough, and even the part that only wishes to push the boundaries, to see how much I can backslide before I gain again.
I'm not proud of this. But I know this part of me-- I've seen it before, under similar circumstances. As far as this other part of myself-- let's call her Zelda-- as far as Zelda is concerned, we're done. It's time to shut off all that goddamned counting (what could be more boring than simple, repetitive addition?), all the measuring, all the agonizing considerations (do I want 1% or 2% milk? -- the answer, by the way, is 2%, because it doesn't feel like suffering). Zelda wants to feel that luscious rhythm of hand-to-mouth with no brain inbetween. Zelda wants to eat Cheese Bakes (or maybe something even more wicked) straight from the bag. Zelda is also not adverse to doing so under the influence of AK-47 or some other fabulously nomered herbal influence. The chewing is always so great that way.
So now, in this tiny apartment, I am living with my 5'10" self, my 5'10" girlfriend, 3 geriatric but chipper and fit girlcats-- and Zelda. It's feeling a bit crowded. The good news is that Zelda hangs out mainly in the kitchen, close to the stove, probably under the cutting board. She sneaks out in a manner not unlike a rodent, and either props the refrigerator door open, or grabs a box of granola or some other previously I'm not gonna have that treat and holds the carton open with a little beckoning hand gesture.
I've done a decent job of avoiding her, but she's making me tired. So I've gotta keep my guard up until she goes back into her hole. And another thing: there's no way in hell that bitch is going shopping at the Co-Op with me.
THE ZELDA HOLE: IS IT "TIMED" or "NORMAL"?
posted by Stine @ 8:16 AM
3 comments
3 Comments:
OHMYGOD! I'm linking this post to my blog because this is just the stuff I'm grappling with, except mine isn't named Zelda and my herbage of choice isn't AK-47.
Oh BIG SIGH for the Zelda's of the world!
Maddy
so i stand in awe of you both (maddy and stine) for reaching these goals (or being damn close) and i make a mental note...note to self: the struggle won't end when the scale shows some magic number, but the struggle WILL become less about feeling deprivation and more about keeping your eyes and ears open...because I feel them opening more now, feel myself listening and seeing and being in a way that is foreign yet familiar...and i don't want this person -- hmmm, we'll call her Edna--to go away anytime soon, if ever. I think Edna and Zelda might have to meet and greet and then knock the shit out of each other. Once that's over with, they can exchange phone numbers. There's still so much to learn, so much to know.
Another note to self: you are blessed.
M
"...even the part that only wishes to push the boundaries, to see how much I can backslide before I gain again."
I keep thinking about this line and the more I think about it, the more...well, the more I just want to thank you for having the courage and the insight to put it out in the world.
M
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