I'm still feeling slightly perplexed that this is not harder. I mean, I went cold cucumber and just stopped eating meat, drinking soda, drinking (oh for the love and smell of it) coffee, and consuming any sugar that i can detect. Everything now is unsweetened; unless I want raw sugar and good luck waiting for that to dissolve - better off not getting it and saving my thighs a few dimples. No rub a bub-bub when I walk. I have started consuming more raw veggies this past month than I have have in the past six months easy. Tofu and soy are my new homies, wanting to hang with me at every meal and I'm having to push them back. I keep telling myself Fresh! Fresh! I am cooking for myself and the family food that is not just edible but enjoyable.... So, why am I feeling slightly funky? I keep waiting for the shoe to drop, or the tomato to explode, or the potato skin to shed, and run screaming from the kitchen " Meat! Oh sweet Lord give me meat and cheese and please oh please a piece of chocolate for crap's sake!" But no. This has not happened.
In fact, at a BBQ just the other day I got a hamburger off the grill for my daughter (she is still pulling the "shy" thing. I have no idea why I fall for this because I know darn well that girl is not shy) and as I carried it over to her a drop of grease falls on my wrist and begins to slide down my arm. I looked at it and Oh Mr. Mcdonald that had a farm, there was blood on it. I stopped walking for a split second. I wanted to drop it, to get it AWAY from me, to throw it but you know, my arm sucks. I throw worse than any girl, so it wouldn't have gone very far. probably would have landed on my foot and how would that be. Oh look, she has a dead, bloody cow at her feet. ugh. At the very least, I wanted to hurl.
These emotions, strong as they were, caught me by surprise. After all, it's not like I'm a virgin, I've seen this meat before. But not like this. Just like that guy you wish you could erase from your mind, the one where you think, omg - i did that with him?!?! That hot guy with the silky, thick hair turns out to be greasy & smells like smoke and sour alcohol, with too much mousse in his hair so it flakes all over your pillow. You see him and fight off the gag reflex when he wants a good morning kiss and hoping your girlfriend didn't see and if so, that there wasn't any proof, no pictures for sure so you can deny, deny, deny..... well, that's how I felt.
A little traumatized by the hamburger.
It was written all over my face. My daughter laughed. I laughed too because I don't want to be so uptight others think i have a giant pickle up my butt but believe you me, I wiped my arm off as fast as I could.
But still, this has not been that hard. Ok, I will admit though the other night my daughter, (same one - maybe she has it in for me) was cutting chunks of cheese to go with her crackers. I walked by and as I passed the platter of snack perfection, I reached out to grab one. My hand stopped mid-air as I caught myself. My daughter looked at me and smiled a very knowing, conspiratal smile. It's ok mommy - just one. One piece of yummy sharp cheddar cheese won't hurt you. It's soooo delicious. Hah! Pusher. I kept walking.
I feel so free writing again! It's been too long. Busy, busy, busy. Being busy robs me of the things I love to do. Makes me crazy.
So, I'm still seeing Smoke. It's one of those bad relationships. We break up and then get back together. It's not even the sex because Smoke doesn't get me off much anymore, I'm thinking it's the comfort. I've heard it's dangerous when relationships get too comfortable. Next thing you know, it's only sweatpants, stringy hair and farting. The romance is gone and all that is left is the grim, smelly reality. I had a t-shirt on earlier today that smelled like Smoke. I wanted to gag. I stunk. Smoke stunk. The worst part? I'll probably see him later. I keep trying to give it Jesus. Really I do. I know that Jesus is completely capable of taking away my urge to ever see Smoke again. But I'm kind of like an Indian giver. I always take it back. I tell Jesus later, not right now, tomorrow, after this one, after this pack, after I'm done being pissed off at my ex or sad about the pigeon. Later. And then I wake up and I tell Jesus I'm sorry. Again. I tell him I really want to stop. This time. And then back I go. See how this grabs you - As a dog returns to his vomit so a fool returns to his folly. FAB.U.LOUS. I'm a fool eating my vomit. God doesn't mess around. Calls you right out and there it is. One day I'm going to stop eating that. I'm going Fresh! After all I was addicted to the food I ate for 33 years, Smoke has only been around for 20. You'd think it would be a piece of cake. or pie. or cold cup of chocolate soy milk. (freakin yum! that stuff is amazing.)
I'm about done today with all my rambling. I leave with one thought.
Why do we eat animal crackers? It seems a little strange to me. Well, for one, it's a cookie ok. Let's not give our food identity issues. It tastes like a cookie. Smells like a cookie. It's a cookie. And second, it's shaped like an animal?! Does this not strike anyone else as odd? I mean, we advocate not eating animals but we'll eat them as a cookie? Why aren't they shaped like radishes? or portobello mushrooms? That would be a big freakin' cracker that wants to be a cookie right there. At least the size of a lion. Maybe an elephant. Perhaps you've never wondered. Or maybe you think it's dumb. It's not meat stupid! But the next time you go to bite off the gorilla's head - maybe the irony will hit you.
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