Today's session went really well. I think I enjoyed having my sister about, who tends to get rather nervous in new situations and ends up gibbering about, making me laugh.
When we got home this evening, we dug into some late night dinner. Although we had a healthy session earlier and Frank, yoga master, advised us on certain whole foods that are filled with more nutrients than a decent dinner, we left thinking, "yea, we'll turn this around". I said to myself I was going to start a raw food diet, try it for a week, re-vitalize my system.
Entering the supermarket, aisles of food saying "me, me, me" I grab a pot of houmous, some celery sticks and turn my back on the processed foods. At that moment my sister went off to get what she craved for... a pizza. It was right then I already knew I'd sneak a piece, even after I had my healthy snack. Just a little grease. It can't be that bad, one slice...? Maybe two? I ended up eating seven celery sticks, one entire pot of houmous (low fat) and two slices of pizza... And now? I kinda feel like shit.
Since I hit 26 I feel like I'm actually fighting with my body. Being athletic in build, I never worried. For the last three years, I practically did no exercise. I tried, but it bored me. I went through a real stupid phase where I controlled what I ate. To the point where I was smaller than the American size zero (not to confuse size with weight though, I wasn't anorexic) - when I was in New York with a friend, I tried on a pair of jeans from GAP; thinking they weren't tight enough, I went to the sales clerk and asked if he had them a size smaller, he checked the tag "we don't sell anything smaller than a size zero ma'm".
Shortly after that experience, I saw the doomed number '0' everywhere. The tabloids were polluted with size zero celebs, looking worn out, older than their age and behind the veneers they seemed miserable. Question was, did I look like that? Looking back on pictures, not really, but those legs... well they did look rather sinewy. So after gradually getting used to eating what I wanted, whenever I wanted, I ate and ate and ate. On top of it, I got back onto the Guinness and everything pretty much went sort of wobbly from there.
Originally I wanted to write this blog about something else. But somehow I felt that talking about my yoga and feeling shitty about what I ate barley an hour ago, sort of ties in with this something else that I just started to feel. And that is - I miss him. I am truly and properly missing him. It actually kind of hurts. And I worry that it might get worse. It's reached the point where I wonder what the hell are we doing? Why are we apart? What good is this doing? Yes, we figured we'd take a break so that he could properly concentrate on himself without distractions, and me too (I guess). But we've been in contact some parts of the day as though we were still an item. Ending every conversation with, I Love You. This grey area is confusing me more than ever. My skin feels tight around my heart. I just want this to be over with. Have him back in my arms. Smelling his skin. I love that smell. It's the only smell I've ever noticed coming from a man that I fell in love with. Now I'm stuck with memories.
I've caught myself twice today checking my phone to see if he's written me something. But nothing yet...
No matter how "logical" you choose to make things, feelings always take over eventually. And I want him back. Plain and simple. I tire of sharing things over the phone. Gosh. I'm. Feeling. Sad.
Just thought I'd leave you with a last thought, that yea, I feel shitty about being a pig earlier tonight but I feel even shittier that I can't have him close to me right now before I fall asleep.