I’m feeling particularly angsty at the moment, and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the weather change that’s happened pretty much overnight (nothing new for Chicagoans, however).
I find myself really wanting to chill in front of a fire (a bonfire, specifically) and drink hot chocolate and eat smores. I find myself really wanting to sit by the ocean for a while.
For someone who doesn’t consider herself one with nature, I think about it an awful lot.
And then I remember that foods like smores and drinks like hot chocolate don’t help me to lose weight.
And then I wonder why I care. Which leads me to think about when food exactly became my safety net.
It’s not like I am endangering my life, but I’m not being healthy. I won’t be showing up on a talk show anytime soon. I approach food the same way I approach many other areas of my life – haphazardly. It drives me crazy – count calories, don’t count calories. Eat meat, go vegetarian. Be a size 2, embrace your curves. Today, Jillian Michaels. Tomorrow, bulemia.
How the hell do you figure it all out?
No clue, says I. No clue.