So, I am back on board, not as fully locked and loaded as I’d like to be and I have concerns about tomorrow food-wise and I am eating a beanless, riceless fajita bowl, but I’m here.
Went to a reception/basketball game at our nearby college. It was good. Nice. I got a new jacket about which I’m having a weird palpitation since financially, obviously, we’re not supposed to be doing right now and there was a weird issue with the card and then, palpitations. Alright. So, at any rate, I suddenly realized whilst in the store – not shopping, once the coat that I’ve eyed for ages was thrust upon me that I totally fucking hate the coat I currently own. It has giant puffy white hairballs at the ends of it and it’s slightly too big in that its arms are about six inches longer than mine. And it makes me feel like a retarded snow bunny all the time. So this black peacoat felt like the opposite of everything I hate about that coat that I never realized I hated until I saw this new coat, and I wigged and bought it.
So. That happened. And I wore it to this function and felt cute and small and I ate a few of the hors d’oeurves and tried to steer clear of all of the little carbs hidden about. Imperfect, but tolerable. Then, I felt hungry as I’d only had a wee lunch of egg and bacon and pepper and a wee little shake for breakfast so I got some food. And I’m feeling alright about it. Timing was off for me to get in much exercising, though I did try – started the DVD and everything before I was hauled off. I will do better on that tomorrow.
They’re painting my room at home since my aunt is going to stay with us. 6…seven…eight years and my bare white walls are going to see some color. It’s like a cinnamon, chocolate color. I don’t want to associate it with food, but that’s the color it is. My other aunt is coming in from Chicago and we’ll all be together next weekend. I don’t know how it’ll be, or even how the funeral will be, but I hope I can lend her some support and not use the emotionality to excuse bad eating or not exercising or what. But…if that happens, it happens. Life is too short for guilt and regret short-circuiting plans. I know that now.
Driving home, I’m thinking about this coffee meeting. That’s what it is, really, just a meeting. A getting together and seeing how one another is in real life. It’s not Cupid writing Enochian sigils in our hearts. It’s not fate or destiny or white knights or the failure of any of the above if it doesn’t click magically. And it’s not a name signed in the Devil’s book if there’s fun in it or pleasure in it. I don’t have to have a terrible time to say, okay, you know what, I’m not ready or interested in being your one and only person.
And now, I’m just chatting with friends, feeling relatively normal. Funny how the day is all these pieces of events half-happened, and you end up, somehow, with something.
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