Thursday, January 5, 2012
"Is this thing on? Can you hear me?"
No, it's not a voice from beyond. I really am alive and well. Not so well, really, but alive. One of you is still poking me in my fat white behind, and for that I am grateful. (Thank you, Princess Dieter) Sometimes the thinnest of threads makes the strongest life line. Every message you sent to me gave me a little more strength. Added up, they brought me almost to the brink of life. The final push? Don't laugh, but it was a commercial on TV. Not a diet aid, or a diet plan, or a healthy way of life commercial. It was a Citibank commercial, for Pete's sake. I hate Citibank. But L.P. singing Into the Wild-- "...come save us a runaway train..." You have to love the irony.
Of course, that's what I've been all this time... a runaway train. I've written nothing and eaten everything. My A1C is probably up into the diabetic range by now. I haven't really given a crap about much of anything for a long time. I am still underemployed, despite immense effort on my part to break into a full time position in my desired profession. There are also some family issues that wear on me constantly. Add in the fibromyalgia, and all I want to do is eat to relieve my stress. In my hedonistic way, that's what I've been doing for more months than I can count. Nom nom nom. Hell, it works. Eating sends my endorphin level through the proverbial roof faster than anything else. I'm addicted to the fatty sugary salty high.