Sunday, March 11, 2012

Got a Brutz On

That's what Great-grandpa Gerst said when a person pouted or was frowny. That's me today. For no external reason. I spent the week diet-cheating so of course there's a row of "gained" icons on my Wii Fit calendar. Doesn't make me feel any better knowing that I did it to myself. Sometimes I feel like there's a petulant 9-year-old still alive in me who digs in her heels and says (to me, who is driving this bus full of misfits) "you can't make me" no matter that I enjoy eating right and working out. I give up. So as soon as the latest prospective tenant leaves I'm taking my crabby self down into the basement studio to sew so I don't harsh on Durwood's Sunday. I feel like stomping around throwing tantrum after tantrum, ordering people around, and making the world (or at least the part that touches me) the way I want it. And I'd like a magic wand to make me the way I want to be--thinner, not skinny, with no shoulder & hand pain, and without the arthritic right knee. I wouldn't make me perfect, cross my heart, I'd just fix it/me so that I could eat what I want and not balloon up immediately. That I wouldn't feel the irrational pull toward ice cream and chocolate. My human brain says "no, you don't need an ice cream cone/bag of Dove dark chocolate" while my lizard brain says "gimme, gimme, gimme." I'm zeroing in on the giving up point, I'm afraid, and then I'll be so disappointed in myself I'll despise myself. (See? What'd I tell you? It's a downer day. I'm not fit for human interaction.) Later I'll be going outside into the healing sunshine and turn my pasty winter face to the sun for a shot of vitamin D and an attitude adjustment. I drive myself nuts. If I wasn't permanently attached to this variety of crazy, I'd run screaming for the hills. I can't fathom why Durwood has stuck around for so long. Inertia?

March 10--Egypt, Sporting Boat. Elaine sat under the canvas awning. Her face felt gritty from the windblown sand and sweat. She felt like she'd sat in the same square meter of desert all season, slowing sinking lower into the substrate each day.

And that's all the awake I had for writing last night. I'll do better tonight, I promise. Stay far away from me today. I'm warning you. I can't be responsible for destroying any good mood you might be cultivating. "Danger! Danger, Will Robinson!"

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