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Thursday, February 19, 2004
not the most scintillating entry you'll ever read
I just got an email survey of a different kind, and it's one, for once, that I'm NOT going to fill out (I am a sucker for all kinds of surveys... except this one). Remember slam books? There were different varieties of them when I was in school -- one type involved writing a person's name on each page and then passing the book around to everyone and each person would write a comment about each other person. The idea was that you would be honest and nobody was supposed to get offended. Except, come on, nobody thinks anyone's PERFECT, and as soon as teenage girl A found out that teenage girl B thought that she had a funny-looking nose, there went their friendship. And this would happen a dozen times over every time the slam book made the rounds. (for a great literary treatment of this concept read Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great). Nobody turned out to be as thick-skinned as they thought. This email I got was of a similar nature -- the recipient is supposed to answer a lot of questions about the sender: Do you think I'm pretty/crazy/kind/clever... and on down the line. Now this isn't saying anything about the person who sent the email to ME. Frankly, I like her, but I haven't spent enough time around her in the past ten years to be able to answer a lot of questions about her. But there is no way I'm sending that on to anyone. Just uh-uh. I am sensitive enough without doing something stupid like that.
Speaking of sensitive, I'm feeling a good deal better today, overall, but I am kicking myself seriously about my diet. I've spent the last two days in the following pattern:
6 am - 3 pm: eat very conscientiously, count all my calories, virtuously drink a ton of water and avoid all temptation.
3 pm - bedtime: to heck with it, one serving of ice cream won't hurt me. Well, now that I've had ice cream I may as well finish the job and have some chips. Mmm, salt. More chips. Yum. Well, I've totally blown it for today already, I'll have some cookies. Oh, and dinner too.
bedtime: guilt guilt guilt guilt.
To try (unsuccessfully) to motivate myself to be good today, I took a progress picture and sat and looked for a while at the progress I've made so far. This is supposed to help me feel a sense of accomplishment and drive which will buoy me past temptations and make me enjoy dieting. Except today, it didn't. But for your edification, here are the pictures. (dang, I hate that before picture. I really really HATE it.)
last summer ~~~ today
So now, I'm going to try a different tack. I'm going to tape a Fatter Me picture on the fridge with the caption, "Do you want to go back here? Do you REALLY?" And if that doesn't work I'll have to get really extreme and actually --horrors-- exercise. I have been so not interested in exercising lately.
My next entry will be my 200th and I am planning an extravaGANza to celebrate. (you have to say that word like George Carlin to understand). I've been keeping this diary for about 190 days. This means that even with all the days I skipped, I still did enough multiples-in-one-day to bring my average above one entry per day. That is just. sick. ack. --------
