Came home from my 3-hour class and felt really groggy. Maybe it's because I stayed up til 3:30 in the morning talking to my brother. It was good, though. We are a good team at knocking sense into the other when whichever is feeling scared or as I call it 'forgetting to walk on the water' and instead, as Eileen says, 'glug, glug, glug' down you go.
This tremendous gift of four months to write (say it with me) is heady and in the past few days I have gone from euphoria to euthanasia. From the smooth step amongst the waves to bomb diving downward into the choppy seas.
So I came home and purposely did not turn the tv on - at least for an hour - this is one addiction or babysitter I must wean from. Then I ate my leftovers of sweet and sour chicken with rice. Another intervention is needed there. And then I crashed. Awaking 20 minutes later (damn peri-menopause) I turned on the boob tube. Then I turned it right back off. I lit a candle I purchased at Eckerd's after coming in from school. The scent is cucumber-melon. Putting on my shoes, I had a mad craving for something entirely ridiculous. I mean, it's Saturday night, and people are maybe drinking, maybe eating, at the movies, making out, falling in love, are nakedly alone, but how many I ask you are craving circus peanuts?
I headed to CVS for the 99 cent bag and I didn't care who knew.
There, I grabbed a small bottle of hair shine, something I'd heard about on the Style Network. Okay, tv isn't all bad. Then I moseyed over to the magazine aisle and pounced on Prevention's Summer Workout issue. More ab exercises than there'd be circus peanuts in the puny bag. I inwardly giggled knowing I was now hedonistically headed for the corn syrup candy which ironically was further up from the magazines.
I surveyed the bags of sweets without remorse. Wait a minute. What? No circus peanuts? There had to be a mistake. Eckerd's sure has them when I'm fried and need to snarl them down!
There were none and it was too late in the evening to make it to Eckerds. My only option was to duck into Dunkin Donuts and suck down a bowtie.
Frustrated I went over the rows of candy expecting the peanuts to jump out at me like long lost family. Nothing. I even reviewed with intensity the candy bars, maybe some peanuts were nestled in behind the Mars bars?
Nothing!
So I snatched a large box of Hot Tamales, the kind you'd sneak into the theater. More corn syrup to coat my angst.
I bought a can of disinfectant, too, as I went up to the clerk at the register. I also bought a stack of blank cds so I could burn a few for my mother to thank her for her enormous generosity. This I decided was worth the trip and incoming calories.
I walked home and felt the cool spring air. I was free. I really didn't need this candy. I didn't need comfort food. I knew it. Everything that went into my mouth since I found I had been saved from an unlived life started to startle me. Why am I eating this? It's nasty and not good for me.
I ate three-fourths of the hot tamales and read Prevention. In the back it held many great recipes and I knew I was to begin a better eating pattern. The box of candy sat next to me. It sat in my gut. Nothing felt right.
I stood and decided to take a bath. I threw away the remaining candy. I knew I was preparing to wash a lot more than city dirt off me. I was becoming cleansed. And this may be the first summer I wear a two-piece to the beach.
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