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| Why me???? |
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| March 29, 2001 Another lousy gain! Why me?????? Why must this be so difficult and painful? There I was, only 3.6 away from goal - I had hoped I could do it in the next week or two. I worked my ass off! I sweated, literally. Every little thing that went into my mouth was weighed and measured. I got in only "good" food - no wasted fluff points for food. So why did I gain .6 of a pound? I'm frustrated, I want to scream and gnash my teeth and for the first time ever, I layed in bed thinking about how close and yet how far goal is, and I had to wipe back the tears. Well, maybe it wasn't just goal - but the feeling of deprivation. The feeling of futileness. Every morsel was being counted, and I was banking points for Easter, and one night in particular, I just couldn't fill up. For the first time in a long time I was hungry - the kind of gnawing hunger in the pit of the stomach. The kind of hunger which made my belly ache. But I wouldn't give in and put another bite in my mouth. Nope, not me - not Ms. Virtuous I'm Going To Make It Woman. So what happens? Frank comes into the bedroom with a fist-full of angel food cake. I quickly looked away. But that didn't help. I mean, did you know that angel food cake smells like heaven? Hmmm....I wonder if that's why they call it that. But I perservered. I held on. Whew! The tempation was finally in HIS belly - and not mine. I felt powerful, strong, determined - until he headed for the kitchen again, that is. Every noise was amplified. The noise of food being hunted down. Cupboards opening and closing, packages and boxes being rustled. I closed my eyes when he got into bed, but I couldn't resist and finally had to sneak a look. There in his fist must have been at least 20 crackers. I don't normally like crackers - but that evening they looked like a thick juicy steak. Ice cream!! CHOCOLATE!!!!!! I guess he saw me peeking, and he knows how hard I've been struggling, because after that he tried to sneak the crackers into his mouth and chewed slowly and quetly. But tell me - have you ever heard a cracket NOT being chewed? The munching went on for at least 20 minutes, and finally I couldn't take it any more. "Are you ABOUT finished?" I asked snidely. He showed me his hand - there in the palm was one lone cracket. One more second and I would have wrestled him for it. I think he could tell that he was on shakey ground because he quickly popped the cracker into his mouth. But the damage was done. I turned on my side, angry at his insensitivity - angry at myself for being angry - after all, I have always told him that the food is my issue, and not his. I've always encouraged him to live his dietary life normally. Quite liberal of me, don't you think? Yeah -liberal is good and fine when one isn't hungry. Or when one isn't facing her now-deceased mother's birthday, or when one isn't missing her only child and .......... OK...I admit it......I was feeling sorry for myself. As I lay on my side the tears leaked out from behind my tightly clenched eye-lids. Damn it! I am NOT going to cry. Get used to this Karen - this is life from now on. Just that thought made the tears flow. FROM NOW ON???? OK...yeah, I knew this, I accepted it, but for once I want to change the rules in this game. I want to eat what I want to eat, all I want to eat, and when I want it. I don't want to count points, I don't want to weigh in every week, and I DON'T want to see a gain at the scales. "Yeah - that's what I want," the rebel inside of me screams. "You want what?" asked that voice which plagues me at times. "You know what I want," I answer back angrily. "Oh, so in other words you want to die early, wear fat clothes, waste your life with your head stuck in the fridge. You want to go backwards, YOU WANT TO BE FAT AND OUT OF SHAPE AGAIN?" The voice demands an answer. I refuse to anser and instead sigh, and burrow even deeper into my pillow. Then, silently, my husband reaches over and rests a gentle hand on the small of my back. Slowly, he caresses my hip, as he's done ever since I lost weight. He traces the length of my new curves. His hands translate the pleasure and joy he has found in me and our marriage since I lost the weight. That pleasure and joy is borne of a woman who for once in her life is content. She likes herself - she loves herself. Her happiness overflows in everything she does. Her joy and happiness is infectious and the cement of a 20-year-marriage. "No, I don't want to go backwards," I whisper. "What?" asked Frank. "Nothing honey," I say as I reach over and turn out the light. |
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