Quitting smoking is a GREAT idea- everyone knows how terrible smoking is for you. All you have to do is watch TV for the length of one 30 minute episode of ANYTHING, and you are doomed to see at least one horrible infomercial about how you are killing your pets, or using your teeth (at the corner gas station, with pliers- who the fuck thought of that, anyway? Yikes!) to pay for your disgusting habit…I mean, you would have to live under a rock NOT to be aware of the danger smoking puts you in. Duh. And if you live in California, any fantasies you harbor about no one noticing will quickly be shot down by the glares and fake coughs of anyone standing within a two mile radius of your smoke. It’s embarrassing. I couldn’t even smoke in my car anymore and feel safe from the judgmental eyes of every stupid Tahoe and Range Rover that literally could look down on me as they passed my shitty little Corolla. So quitting smoking is really great, and I am happy to be doing it. Again.
And eating healthy? Also an amazing idea. Working out like a mad woman? Generally fantastic. Every single thing I am doing right now is a testament to how much I love myself, and to my commitment to be the most healthy, vibrant, lovely woman I am capable of being. Yep. I stand by my decisions.
So, why then, you might wonder (if you could see me right now) am I sitting here, in my living room, in the very late afternoon, still in my bathrobe, with what appear to be pajamas sticking out at the bottom? Ah, I’m glad you asked…Because I decided to undertake all of this stuff without first consulting my calendar to assess where I might be in the hormonal scheme of things, if you catch my drift. Yep, that’s right- in the very beginning of this huge and beautiful new phase of my life, I am sitting here with a bad case of PMS. And you know what? I am fucking hungry. I may have to throw away a perfectly good, Costco sized jar of Skippy peanut butter, because it will not stop calling my name, and I am only human, for the love of God!
I am hungry, angry, unreasonable, bloated, sad, irritable, and severely in need of…something. Pretty much any of the things I am not allowing myself to have right now would really hit the spot. But…I made a promise to myself. And as bad as it might be (and it’s really not all that bad, I guess), as much as any of an array of pastries, French fries, chocolate, breve lattes and Marlboro’s would be right now…I still feel like I can hang in there. I still agree with my choice to just not give in. Which kind of gives me hope for the days ahead. I think, in light of all of this, that hope is warranted. Don’t you?
Anyway, that’s my Wednesday update. Now go away. You’re bugging me.