Friday, February 01, 2008

Here's a poem I wrote this evening.

It was cold out tonight and all my track pants were too dirty to wear for my walk, so I went to throw on my huff'n'puff jeans. You know, the ones that fit me great just last month? Sure they were a little tight the other week, but that's to be expected with being back up to 220 lbs.

{self delusional cackle}

Make that 224.5 as of this morning.

No wonder they didn't do up. Not even the button! I've spent the day finally admitting to a lot of anger I had about some things in my life at the moment, but those jeans tonight? Ugh. My disappointment in myself is very keen at the moment.

I don't have a title for this yet, but hopefully one will come to me in the next few days.

Listen, Stomach, what a load of bull!
There's no way you could be full.
Come on eat another bite,
you haven't finished all in sight.
Peanuts, butter, cheese galore.
In the cupboard there's always more.
Help me bury what it is I'm feeling,
With this second banana I am peeling.
Minestrone slurped by the quart,
means no emotions to be fought.

“You're doing so good,” the voice will say,
“'Cos you walk a little every day.”
But deep down I know that's not true.
The jeans that fit me are too few.
The clothes I wear don't feel quite right,
now they're too short or far too tight.
How I regret my charitable bent.
All that comfy stuff, out it went.
But I never thought I'd fall so far,
to again seek comfort in a jar!

I truly thought I was done with all this
bitching, moaning, vinegar and piss.
Falling back into that dull, old pattern,
makes me feel like a worn out slattern.
Some days too tired to give a fuck,
feeling downtrodden and out of luck.
But then I'm not the only wench,
stuck in this godforsaken trench.
So perhaps I should put down the peach,
and head on back out into the breach?

Girding my loins I prepare for war,
and remember what it is I'm fighting for.
Not for love, nor fame, or even wealth,
but instead for a clean bill of health.
That means I need to always remember,
what I promised myself last December.
Let no one, 'specially myself,
put my feelings up on a shelf.
Even if only in my heart I bare,
my emotions both the foul and the fair.

Funny thing is, I didn't rush right out with the old diet thinking. On the walk I got into a rhythm that suggested the poem, and I hashed out the first verse before I was done. And after writing it all out I realise that I have to be better about having my crying jags or angry fits, even though Alaskaboy is home. I didn't realise how hard I've been holding back these last few days or how much I'd relished the privacy to work through my shit while he was away at work last year.

And to be honest, I thought I had my crap under control. I thought I was beyond the need to work through any more stuff. I believed that I'd waved my magic wand, and even if there might be times my life wasn't full of bunnies, flowers and cute things, that I no longer needed to struggle through any of this.

So, I guess I'm not so much the head of the class as I thought. And those pounds won't magically stay off or melt away even further. Despite all the progress I made last year, I'm still human. I still have times where I need a little extra food to dull what I'm feeling. Good news is it only took me a little while to figure out what I was doing and can now work on expressing and feeling those emotions.

I'm glad I do have the tools in my belt to help me deal with the job at hand. Now, I'm learning how to recognise which tool I need at any given time.
And so the lessons continue.

1 Nibbles:

Marshmallow said...

Ahahahahh I LOVE the poem! I wanna stick it on my wall :-D

Back to school, missy!