I don’t like deprivation. Which is saying something, since my investment in material things is pretty limited. I think I’ve never gotten over 1) my German mother’s investment in financial security, wooden geese and antique everything and 2) the 10 years I spent traveling around the world, careful not to accumulate anything that wouldn’t fit in a backpack (or selling things after a year of living in, say, Japan). Here are the things I’m attached to:
1) My computer, for writing.
2) My glass statue of a winged woman.
3) My meditation cushion and yoga bolster.
4) A couple stuffed animals (including 2 snowmen and at least 1 Snoopy)
5) Some books
6) Any clothes that make me look really hot
7) My boxer shorts and t-shirts that I wear all summer.
I’m also rather attached to my partner, but she’s not a material thing, so that’s okay.
It seems, though, I am attached to not being hungry and wanting to kill people! I’d forgotten that diets made me crazy and that when my blood sugar gets too low it’s not pretty. Once, in 1990 or so, I had a complete meltdown on Commercial Street in Provincetown because I hadn’t eaten in 6 hours and we couldn’t decide on a restaurant (note how many restaurants there are on Commercial street-LOTS), probably because my mental functioning deteriorates on no food. My partner got this look of panic, ran into a store, and came out with a bag of nuts. “Eat these,” she said. “Now!”
Within 10 minutes I was my normal insane self rather than someone out of a horror movie. I mean, wow! Blood sugar matters.
So, back to the cleanse. I have been perfect in terms of sticking to it and since I Buddhistly know that any time I’m perfect it’s a big mistake, I don’t know why I’ve done this to myself! I am determined to cross my own perfectionist line and eat some egg whites today. Or at least 2 warm smoothies. Because humor aside, I am truly miserable on this f*&^ing cleanse, even if my digestion is working better than it has in over a decade. I can’t do yoga, I can’t work out, I can’t think, I drop things a lot and objects have taken on an enormous amount of life. Today the smoothie leapt out of the pot and kissed me. It was not pleasant. I’m just saying.
So, egg whites. I kind of hate eggs, so it’s not a splurge. A splurge would be the Cacao Bliss jar that is now speaking to me in Spanish. “Ven,” it says. “Ven aqui mi amor. Come mi.” (Come, come here, my love, eat me.)
That Cacao Bliss is an extreme pervert. I don’t even know it that well. My partner already doesn’t like it because it has the potential of making me homicidal. She may take it right out of the house if she hears about this, which she will, because she reads this blog.
Here’s what I have to say about that: Over my dead body is anyone touching Cacao Bliss.
And: I need to practice my Spanish if we’re going to Costa Rica next year, which is looking realistic on reception of a very nice tax return. I just have to convince my partner to spend it!