Okay, so, I’m hungry all the time. And sometimes light-headed. And don’t feel like doing anything. I find myself wanting to eat the grossest, most disgustingly unhealthy foods ever. French fries at Cane’s, next to the Boston Playwrights’ Theatre. The jar of Cacao Bliss in the cabinet. A steak. Fried anything. I find myself getting angry at every meal (I’m up to about 10 a day now, so that’s saying something). I’m like, what is with you, you f*(&ing green soup!? I mean, you have a problem in that I would really just like to kill you right now! Forget you, aduki beans! You don’t even fill me up. I don’t care how much chipotle powder there is in your recipe! And as for you, avocado, you are becoming a significant disappointment in my life, since you are making me fat and not even satisfying my craving to eat a car, a house, or anything covered in fat and sugar. Rice, oatmeal, and 100% rye bread, you can go stick it. I used to like you, but now it’s just a bored, washed-out relationship….
Before this cleanse I was moderately insane about food, more than some women, definitely not as much as others. I ate healthy, I watched calories, and I knew what I needed to do to maintain a healthy size 8, which I did and do actually care about. I had passed the stage of starvation diets or any diets at all, and I didn’t get hungry much if ever, since I ate lean protein and healthy fats instead of carbohydrates and sugar. I had accepted that since I’m Irish, with a body somewhat good for child-bearing, I was always going to have curves and my thighs would never be skinny, and this was okay with me. Aging, not so much, but I was working on it.
Now, however, I’m probably going to end up a homicidal size 12 in 2 weeks, ready to eat pretty much anything.
And on top of that, all I have to do is think about someone I didn’t like who I knew, oh, say 25 years ago and I want to go kill him/her. Like, I mentioned my train wreck first girlfriend in the last blog, and all day today I’ve been monologuing in my head about how she did me wrong and she was in the top three of most amoral women I have ever known, and how she voted for Reagan, twice, in the midst of the AIDS epidemic and actually used ethnic epithets. Instead of being all Buddhist and being like, “Well, you know, she was nineteen and so were you, and who knows anything then, and unfortunately she knew less than most, and was more f-ed up…” I’m like, “Where is she? I’m going to X state and find her and make her pay!”
I also didn’t think, “Well, you could have left a lot earlier than you did.” I thought, “I don’t care how gorgeous she was or talented or how much of an idiot romantic I was about those things, SHE WILL PAY!”
So, I think I need some f$#^ing food! Preferably something protein soaked in a lot of fat.
But, I am remembering the cleanse leader saying that feelings may come up. I’m like, Right. I already went in this week and told the IFS therapist she dresses like an interpretative dancer and talks too much and she better get with the program on how smart I am. I’m not having any feelings. I am FINE!
Perhaps I will now drink some water with a cinnamon stick in it and meditate mindfully on my homicidal feelings. I will learn something new about my dark side, as if that needed any more encouragement.
And then, sometime tonight, my partner will come home. She slipped up today and ate Indian food with some FAT in it. I am so jealous, I could…
I will meditate. I will. I will stand on my head for at least 3 minutes. I will do a handstand. IT WILL BE FUN, DO YOU HEAR ME? FUN. FUN. FUN.
I think there are about 10 more days to this cleanse. It is very hard for me to say die, but it might be real enlightenment to do so, if death (for someone) is the other alternative. I am considering this. Ahimsa. Or flatulence. Or unmitigated rage. It’s hard choice.
PS–I have no back pain. So apparently, all my rage is now conscious (read John Sarno mindbody blogs if you don’t know what I’m talking about).