Yesterday was a bad day for me.  I haven’t had the super throw uppies like I had last week or was it the week before? So, that’s a good thing. The bad thing?  I had lunch with a friend and I was craving something super sweet afterwards. We sat for about 30 minutes after we ate talking then we got up and I bought a drink and a cookie. I got upstairs to my desk, sat and took a sip of my drink and realized I was incredibly full.

 

            That should be the end of it, but it wasn’t.

 

            I looked at my massive cookie and said to myself, there’s no way I’m going to be able to eat that thing. I wish the internal conversation had ended there.  I wish that all of my bad eating habits were eradicated and that I never had to deal with them again. I wish that knowing that eating that cookie could be harmful to my band was enough to sway me from eating it.

 

            It wasn’t.

 

            I took a nibble, just a nibble. I told myself if I can have a taste I can get rid of the craving I’m having. Unfortunately that nibble became a bite then another bite and an hour later I had finished the cookie.

 

            I was more than just stuffed.  Though oddly, I wasn’t painfully stuffed nor did I have any PBing or tossing anything at all up. The cookie just stayed and I was soooooo full that the thought of food actually disgusted me.

 

            This was around 2:00pm.

 

            Three then four o’clock rolls around and I’m still feeling super stuffed. I’m not even drinking my water because the thought of ANYTHING going into my tummy was too much.  So, I was a whole bottle behind on my liquids by the time the clock rolled to five. 

 

            I got my stuff and went to wait for my ride. We were supposed to go to dinner tonight. I knew the kitchen was a mess and we had a lot to do so I didn’t want to add cooking into the mix. But dinner? Now? My stomach still felt filled to the brim of breaking.  Though, I moved easily enough and still had yet to toss anything up. 

            My ride showed up and was starving to death. I told him I wasn’t hungry. He said he’d stop by Taco Bell or something like that. I was cool with that, though I didn’t really want to be near food at all. The very thought of it made me want to throw up.

            We are driving around. Decide we need to go to Target. We pass a Vietnamese restaurant and my ride says I want to eat there. You know, the nice person in me said it’ll be fine. I will bring in my crochet or a book and not pay attention. The super-stuffed tummy monster on the other hand couldn’t fathom the idea of sitting 30 minutes to an hour surrounded by food and not just any food, food delivered in large ass bowls!!!!

            Fifteen minutes at the Taco Bell was one thing. Sixty minutes surrounded by large bowls of pho was something else. I tried desperately to get over it, but my ride saw my discomfort and asked me what was up. I told him. He was upset.

           

            Now this part is a matter of communication. Some things can be swallowed easily if explained properly and effectively. I don’t think I was there. I think I tossed out my reasoning with little clarity and a lot of anxiety. It was met by frustration and what would be considered a disagreement by most, but a fight by us.

            We don’t yell much at each other. Our “fights” are calm things full of stares and carefully spoken words, this time not so much. This time the words weren’t chosen carefully and there was anxiety on both sides. 

            We didn’t go into the Vietnamese restaurant. We went to Target. He ate some crappy pizza in their café. I bought what we needed. We stopped by a McDonalds and he got something off the dollar menu, more crap instead of the healthy Vietnamese he could have been eating. 

           

            Strange thing when hunger meets …..I want to say satiety, but I wasn’t satiated. I was beyond satiated. I was FULL TO THE POINT OF DISGUST. 

            Basically, he explained his side. I explained mine. He thought I was being selfish and I thought he was being inconsiderate. I finally communicated what I was going through, effectively. He finally understood what I was going through. I got his side of it. I thought he had some valid points, but I wasn’t trying to jerk him around. In the end, we understood each other and there wasn’t anything long lasting in the argument. 

 

            What have I learned? 

 

            ◙ Don’t eat when you are full. Sometimes it’s not just a matter of fucking the band up. You might be screwing with another wise calm evening. 

 

            ◙ I still have food issues that I need to deal with. I didn’t need the cookie and I didn’t need to eat it just because I bought it. 

 

             

            ◙ My band isn’t just about me. I thought it was, but it’s not. Having the band means that I have to make some changes in my life. Having the band means other people have to make some changes in their lives. I have a responsibility to make the impact of those changes desirable or at least tolerable. 

 

            ◙ Most things aren’t the end of the world. I have to stop feeling like everything involving the band/food is life or death, fail or succeed. It’s all a learning process and I will be learning for a long time to come.

 

 

            Wow, all that from a cookie.

 

 

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