What Is That Supposed To Mean- Monday February 14th

By now we all know that I love Weight Watchers and I only regret not having done this sooner. Like a decade ago. But then we would have missed out on all those charming years when I was jacked up on Ephedrine and candy*. The thing that I did not read on the Weight Watcher’s website (although it could be there it’s a very comprehensive and easy to navigate website) is that a side effect of hunger could be psychotic depression.

 

I’ve tried to notice patterns in my hunger and my emotional state to see if I can catch patterns. The more you’re aware of yourself, the easier it is to thwart unwanted behavior. I would eat a little breakfast, a light lunch, and revel in the very few points I had consumed. And then I noticed that in the early evenings I would feel out of control and fantasizing about cutting or binge drinking or moving to Idaho. Half a protein shake later and I’m cracking jokes and laughing and telling people I love them and giving bums a dollar. Just when you think you’re on to your brain, it conspires with your body and takes you for a ride. Ten almonds can turn a sobbing session in my car in the Dominick’s parking lot into an impassioned sing along to whatever Pink Floyd song is playing on the radio.

 

Is this post too wordy? Probably. I’m hungry, so I have only a general idea of what I’m doing right now. Soon I will eat dinner and read this over and probably want to delete it. But I mustn’t! I have to tell the truth and unite with other women who have considered harming themselves or others: You just might need a snack.

 

The hunger doesn’t always make me want to throw things at passing traffic though. Sometimes it inspires an overwhelming urge to exercise or write or nap. It’s very unpredictable. Remember when you were a teenager on a diet and you could go like 36 hours before you drank a Tab and at a bag of carrots? I didn’t like Tab, but you get the point. My Hungerage must be age related, which is fitting because just the other day I got so mesmerized staring at my forehead wrinkle in the mirror Tom G had to come in and flash the lights on and off for ten minutes before I knew where I was.

 

Obviously I couldn’t participate in a hunger strike, and if I were being tortured I think I’d talk if I missed tea-time. I’m not sure I would consider myself a safe hungry driver. I’m a pretty bad driver though, I don’t think it’s be safe to drive thirsty either.

 

Ok, it’s food time. See you when I’m fully operational.

 

* And those were the tame years…

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