Thursday, March 7, 2019

Oh, Will, wherefore art thou?

This morning I showered early took my ipad into the kitchen and listened to a YouTube meditation while I tidied up.  I felt calm and in control.  I was going to fast for the next ten hours.  I was a grown up with will power to spare.

AT 8:45, hunger began to knock. Ping, ping, ping.  I made this to protect me:
No kale but avocado and red cabbage

I wrapped the bowl to keep it fresh.  It sat on the counter undisturbed.


Around 9:05, moving robotically, like The Manchurian Candidate, I opened the freezer and found this.
48 ingredients,40 of them not food




I microwaved it, cut it into dainty sections and ate it while moving around the room. 

Around 10:35, I was surprised to find this on the shelf and then in my hand:
How did you get in my house?
It held seven three inch tamales stuffed with a smidgen of ground beef in mild chili sauce
I ate four of them michrowaved and three straight out of the can. 

It was barely 11 a.m. and I had been taken out.  AFTER UMPTEEN ROUNDS OF THERAPY, TAPPING, EMDR, HYPNOSIS, DEVOTION TO ECKHART TOLLE, DEVOTION TO MEISTER ECKHART, OPRAH AND DEEPAK'S 21 DAY "HEAL YOUR ENTIRE SELF" CHALLENGE, THE SEVEN DAY CELERY JUICE LIFE CHANGING CLEANSE, FOURTEEN DAYS TO A TEENAGE  LIVER, HARNESS YOUR HORMONES, GET YOUR GUT IN GEAR, GIVE THE BOOT TO BAD THOUGHTS, SAY HI TO YOUR GENIUS MIND, BEGONE BROWN FAT, HEAL YOUR ASS, why was I not armed against the ambush by a posse of bad hombres? 

Is life, as one of my children puts it, just one long act of de-assholefying yourself and then you die?

It is 6:00 p.m. and here's the good news and the bad news.  The good news:  After the last tamale and a thorough tooth brushing, I forgot about food for the rest of the day.  I answered my e-mails.  I wrote this post for my blog after which I de-cluttered the lower kitchen cabinets.
   
You're going to miss me
 For the "home exchange area" at the local recycling center.
 
And the bottom drawer of my dresser.
I'm going to miss you
For BigBrothersBigSisters.

The bad news:  there is no bad news. The same robot that made me eat also reclaimed the day and got hold of it.  Maybe learning that I could do that was the lesson here.  All is not lost over a 6-inch pizza and seven three inch tamales.  Somebody gave me a shove and said, "Get over it and keep going."

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