Begging
Apparently my begging worked, as Conlan the Great* sent me the masterpiece Vegan on the Cheap. I’m excited to thumb through it and pick out a few recipes, as it seems to be a great resource for being dirt poor and willing to eat dirt. CtG also provided me with some hopefulness about how great her body feels as a result of eating on a vegan diet, and I’m excited to feel that way! Last night Rico* found the book and announced that it has a recipe for “pot of beans with salt.” It seems he may not be on board with my diet, but hopefully I’ll win him over with an AMAZING pot of beans.
I’ve been eating probably about half of my meals vegan. However, I also feel absolutely disgusting when I don’t. Right now I’m very hungry although I feel like I ate total shit the last few days. Pizza Thursday went through in full and I was pretty filled up so I moderated appropriately. Friday I babysat overnight and the kids had – surprise! – pizza. I ordered a salad and that satiated me, although at eleven when three six year old boys sprinted through the house and then the television broke, I did eat a slice. Then, yesterday, well. Yesterday. Yesterday, I ate a bran muffin and a half for breakfast. Then Neags* and I went for a walk to Dupont Circle, and found a place that had tapas and cheap drinks. There I had several drinks, followed by splitting four tapas with Neags, followed by going to the liquor store, followed by many more drinks. At about ten we ordered pizza and I wolfed it down and this morning I woke up with a horrific hangover and heartburn.
I nursed water and diet coke and had a slice of leftover pizza, and then tonight made beans and rice. I’ve been disgusted with myself the last several days, but with the exception of yesterday’s gluttony, I can at least appreciate that I have made borderline conscientious decisions in the heat of the moment. Rico and Neags also gave me thin assurances that I did not say or do anything stupid last night, however I have a brief flashback of announcing an emotional betrayal when Rico off-handedly mentioned that he preferred Domino’s to Papa John’s. I also seem to remember some form of dancing occurring while everyone else sat and had an adult conversation. Awesome. At least there was some cardio involved.
I’m struggling with the fact that I am fully aware that I passed some sort of threshold. I think I maybe gained three or four pounds at the end of summer and during the fall, so it’s hard for me to tell if I feel so gross right now because it’s just a phase or if it’s that I’ve really exploded. This summer, despite the fact that I wasn’t totally happy with my weight (or anywhere near it), I felt very beautiful a lot of the time. I dressed cutely and did my hair and make up and felt like people could and should be attracted to me, in the right moments. I miss that, although I also do like the emotional and physical retreats that I’ve taken into my home and bedroom. I am normally fairly lazy, although I at least have to get out of my bed and room to not feel like an absolute piece of shit. A bizarre transition for me in the past several months has been that I have a hard time getting out of bed. I don’t know where this comes from, but whenever I’m not at home, I’m thinking of it, and I’m thinking of not only being in my house but in my actual bedroom, under the covers. At certain intervals I think it’s the changing of the seasons, the darkened autumn, the chill in the air. At other times I think it’s that I’m feeling gross. At most times I’m worried that it’s a reflection of my overall motivation and somehow indicative of the fact that oh my god i will never get a job and i will foreclose on my house and have to move across the country to live in my parents’ basement away from all of my friends and the life i’ve tried to build and the only handful of things that really make me happy.
Hopefully I’ll be able to get a dog who will reignite the fires in me. At the very least, he’ll force me to leave my bedroom and go for walks. Hopefully not near any pizzerias.
