JAYNE MANSFIELD
Well, friends, I have to admit that I'm sort of hoping for a relapse, just to have something interesting to share with you at this stage of the game. As I said before, I'm a bit wary of it being this simple, so we'll see what happens. But, for the time being, I'm feeling really good. I also feel like I look better -- my skin seems clearer, I don't have dark circles under my eyes, etc. I've gained five pounds, but oh well.
I've substituted stopping at the liquor store on the way home with stopping for ice cream; it's not terribly healthy in the long run, but it's been fun so far. (And I make small concessions, like only buying the "light" ice cream, or even sorbet!) However, as people in recovery so often trade one addiction for another, I'm watching the scale to ensure that I don't pull a Kirstie Alley. Five pounds I can live with. Ten is another story. Fifteen, and I'll be tempted to buy the Econo-sized jug of Stoli to dull the pain.
This makes me sound like a complete mess, but what the hell? You've already heard about my ass being dumped off in Harlem. Anyway, as I mentioned before, when I was in my early teens, I was a fat kid. And, because I never do anything half-way, when I was a fat kid, I was totalling entire boxes of frozen mozzarella sticks as an after-school snack. Conversely, when I lost weight, I ran religiously and stuck to a disciplined, low-fat, low-calorie diet. I also took brief, half-hearted detours into anorexia and bulemia, but found the former too boring, and the latter way too messy. I would never be tempted to do either again, but I am mildly obsessed with weight. I joke about it, but these five damn pounds really piss me off; at the same time, I'm finding myself turning more and more to food for some kind of comfort. Now, at 5'6" and 128 pounds (now 132), I can afford a little extra weight. But not TOO much. And, honestly, I don't particularly feel like exploring my psyschological relationship with food at the moment. Sobriety is enough on my plate, so to speak, for now.
So now, instead of asking for a drink with dinner, I ask, "What kind of potatoes come with that?"
2 comments:
Oh, they're all related. I missed the alcoholic gene (by some miracle) and got the food issues one instead.
I like the sound of that however....stopping off "for ice cream."
Oh, it is fun. And I adore the simple goodness of a REALLY good vanilla bean ice cream, or a REALLY luscious raspberry sorbet.
I'm an elegant glutton, I really am.
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