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Showing posts from August, 2012

Day 2

I wonder what it is about being on a diet that makes you crave things you haven’t eaten in while.   Yesterday I thought about cake, a lot. Mind you I am not a cake eater per se, but there I was thinking about cake. Oh the brain of a compulsive food addict is something to behold.  My day yesterday was pretty good. I stayed on the plan, ate what I was supposed to etc…until last night at around 9 pm I had a spoonful of peanut butter. FUCK!   It’s the weirdest thing. I don’t have any “bad” foods at home. I got rid of everything. But last night, I found myself wandering around the kitchen, opening the freezer, fridge and cabinets just looking for something to nosh on.   I don’t think I was hungry I was…I don’t know…something. But I had the peanut butter. I’m annoyed at myself but I’m back at it today. I’ve had my cheerios , blueberries and milk. My lunch—salad with 3oz of tuna is ready for me. Dinner will be salmon, left over quinoa (I swear that stuff explodes) from last night, a

Challenges...

Last week I was better about food than I had been in a while. Little big things I call them. I did not buy the wonderful fresh bread and dip it in olive oil to have with my dinner. I drank more water. It’s a little thing, but duh, kind of a big thing.   In spite of feeling better about the way I’ve been eating, I know that I haven’t been doing as well as I could be. I’m still feeling loosey AND goosey.   Just in the nick of time, I read Christine’s post ---which again didn’t say anything new, but said it all. Keep it simple. Right after her post I read Allan’s post , which proposed a challenge!   Woo Hoo! This is what I need for sure. I signed up and got the plan.   I’m not going to lie, it looks pretty challenging.   Like what? We’re supposed to eat within an hour of waking up. Few things about that, I wake up at 6 am. The truth is that I am not only am I not hungry at 6 am, the very thought of eating that early makes my stomach churn. Further more, if I eat at 6 won’t I be hun

Secret keeper...

Tell me what you want to hear, something that were like those years. I'm sick of all the insincere So I'm gonna give all my secrets away. This time. Don't need another perfect line. Don't care if critics ever jump in line. I'm gonna give all my secrets away. -One Republic, Secrets Those who have been reading and paying attention might recall that my blog is, for the most part, a secret.   For the longest time I told NOONE. My goal was to keep this as private as possible so that I could be as honest as possible.    Since I’ve become April, I’ve shared with a very small group of people, that I keep (albeit halfheartedly) a blog. I used to keep a blog on myspace (ha!) and that was public. All my friends and family knew about that one, so I kept it pretty tame.   Since the demise of myspace, some friends and family have asked me if I have thought of having one.   So I’ve told them. Yeah I do, but you can’t know about it. It’s private.   This caused a shit st

Yep, I'm talking about hair.

I know this has kind of passed, but I keep thinking about it. So here I go. I think we need to talk about hair. The hair of black people in particular.   I’m sure everyone has heard about the hoopla regarding the state of Gabby Douglas’ hair.   The black hair blogs were all in a tizzy over it and frankly some of the comments were down right nasty.   I know that many white people (and maybe a few black folks) are confused as to what the big deal is.   Sigh.   Before I explain what and why there was any deal let me say that Gabby Douglas is phenomenal. She is lithe, adorable, the finest of athletes super bendy and flip-tastic.   While watching the Olympics I thought about a lot of things, depending on the event.   I had a steady running dialogue in my brain the whole time. It went a little something like this: Swimming :   God, he looks like a porpoise. I wonder if these men shave all their body hair. I heard swimmers can eat whole turkeys. Ugh, is he spitting?   Phelp

Stuffing my sorries in sack...

Got a package full of wishes, a time machine, a magic wand. A globe made out of gold. No instructions or commandments, laws of gravity or indecisions to uphold . Printed on the box I see. A.C.M.E.'s Build-a-World-to-be. Take a chance - grab a piece , help me to believe it. What kind of world do you want? Think anything. Let's start at the start. Build a masterpiece. Be careful what you wish for. History starts now.. .   – Five for Fighting, World Holy shit balls. I’ve gained 5lbs. @#$%^&*()!   Here is the sad tragic truth about that.  I know exactly how I did it. No surprises here. I simply have stopped trying. I have put in zero effort. Because of my complete and total lack of effort, those 5lbs came back with a vengeance. I’ve stopped thinking about what it is that I am doing. I’ve been eating whatever I want, in whatever quantity I want and hoping for miracles. Like what? Like really good fresh bread dipped in olive oil. Who does that?  In what world does that fos

Eleanor Rigby is bored and lonely...

I'm bored. I'm the chairman of the bored. I'm a lengthy monologue. I’m livin' like a dog. I'm bored. I bore myself to sleep at night. I bore myself in broad daylight coz. I'm bored. Just another slimy bore I'm free to bore my well-bought friends. And spend my cash until the end coz. I'm bored I'm bored. I'm the chairman of the board. –Iggy Pop, I’m bored . Ah, look at all the lonely people. Ah, look at all the lonely people. Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been. Lives in a dream. Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door. Who is it for? All the lonely people. Where do they all come from? All the lonely people. Where do they all belong?- The Beatles, Eleanor Rigby The other day I wondered if it was possible to die of boredom and/or loneliness. I still don't know but I have to tell you that I hope not, because if so my days are numbered. I’ve never been someone who