Trying to make various, simultaneous lifestyle changes for a healthier existence sounds just fine and dandy in theory, but I know that it is going to take much more than simply good intentions for me to ultimately achieve my goals.
By now, I’ve lost about 4 kg/9lbs, and so far, I’ve been quite good these past few weeks regarding my eating habits (I’d almost say beyond reproach). That was, until yesterday, when I suddenly got a craving for something salty. When it hit me, you’d have thought that I was a recovering junkie, how frantic I became from one minute to the next. After tearing up my kitchen and not finding anything worthy of satisfying my urge, pacing back and forth, after opening and reopening cabinets and the refrigerator, I grabbed my keys off the hook and stormed out of my apartment (in the words of Allen Ginsberg) looking for an angry fix.
I walked (well, half ran) into a local Mom-and-Pop type supermarket and went up and down the aisles, looking for something, anything salt-worthy… Soy sauce? No. Potato chips? Nah. Salted nuts? No, no, NO… that would never do!
The longer I was in the supermarket, the more frustrated I felt. Finally, I grabbed an oversized and overpriced bag of Doritos, and was barely out the door by the time I had already torn the bag open and had orange-stained fingers digging for chip after crunchy chip.
When I reached the bottom of the bag, I did not feel satiated. Nope. Instead, I breathed a irritated sigh of defeat. “Well, as long as I’ve botched up my diet, I might as well go all out,” I thought to myself.
What followed was a considerably sizable binge of the sweet, the starchy, the salty, the fatty… and then the aftermath. Think of it as an emotional hangover, complete with the selective memory loss, the physical sickness, and the incredulous remorse. I’m not certain exactly how much I consumed, but afterwards, I felt nothing short of shame. And then the horrible thought crossed my mind… “Hmm… I *could* just throw this all up and make it all better, like it never happened…”
I physically shuddered, shocked at my thoughts. I stopped in my tracks, stunned by the all too familiar, ultra-sly “demon voice” of temptation and evil. Here it was again, trying to once again seductively lure me back into what I have permanently left behind.
No, I couldn’t, I wouldn’t let myself. As disappointed in myself as I was, and as ashamed of myself as I was feeling, I still knew underneath it all, despite how desperately I want to be slender again, idealistically beautiful and thin and lovely, that I could not purge. No. I know by now that nothing in the world is worth the price that I would wind up paying if I started down that mother of all slippery slopes again, into another seven years of darkness and self-destruction.
I took a deep breath as I looked down at my body, giving a sharp pinch to the fat rolls on my abdomen (my most hated body part). I sighed again.
This time, I am finally going to get things right. Back on the horse with you, Violet. Where you belong.
“Fall down seven times, get up eight.” -Japanese proverb
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