I began complaining about the winter in October. And I continued to complain through six months of cold, right up until the last snow fall a week ago melted upon touching down and I felt relieved.
The truth is, I find the summer just as hard. With school over, I am skittering wildly. What to make, to do, to think about now? For the past eight months, my life has been on hold. Everything from dentist appointments to sewing projects entices and frightens. And then there is the Real Work - writing - ten times better and worse than all the rest. But perhaps the most terrifying thing is food.
I don't need to mention my history again. A imagined slip of control can prove disastrous for me. Even an imagined slip of the kinder, more reasonable and forgiving control I have been aiming to keep on this area of my life. Suddenly the fact that I have not weighed myself in over a month fills me with dread. If I eat too much, I want to 'make it up' with starving or exercise, an entirely pointless way, if I want to stay healthy. (And I do, I do.) I've been surprised by the way my haphazard shift-schedule makes it difficult to eat. If I'm not home to cook for myself, I eat what is convenient, feel guilty later, and try to avoid further intake for as long as possible (eventually succumbing of course). I feel like I am back exactly where I started last August.
It's all bullshit. I've already forgotten the 5km I ran last month, the 40 km I biked last week, the way I've stuck to my early suppers and gotten my vegetables. Triumphs.
I cannot treat myself like this. On May 25, I'll step back on the scale. Until then, the plan is as simple as it has ever been:
- no running - my shins need some time
- no skipping meals
- no eating after 7pm
- lots of water
- biking every day (I have to get to know Annalena)
- core work every day
- hula hooping