First of all, there is something outside my house that the rain is dripping on that is echoing. It's totally distracting me, but I'm going to do the best I can to muddle through here. Bear with me.
I just pulled the last two squares of chocolate close to me. That's right. I have two squares of chocolate each day that keep me from killing random strangers in parking lots wherever I go. Each day I allow myself these two squares as an appeasement of the body God. It's sick. I know. Shut up. Either way, I just leaned over and grabbed them, slid them close to me, took a deep breath, and relaxed like they would be my saving grace in the apocalypse. What the hell is THAT about?
Last year someone told me to be happy with my weight for now because it would come back. There was a chuckle there, I don't remember if it was her or me, but someone laughed. I'm pretty sure it wasn't me because the idea that my lost pounds would come back is the most horrific thing I could imagine short of harm to one of my loved ones. I have promised myself over and over... if God would just make me thin I would never put the weight back on. I'm still not "thin" but tonight, I hear those words echoing, "Enjoy it now."
The new treadmill is properly assembled and working like a dream. You forget the feeling of a brand new piece of equipment when you've gone so long with one that rattles and makes loud rumbling noises. When I stepped on it 2 weeks ago I felt like I was home. Like an alcoholic slipping into oblivion with a drink, everything else fell away.
There was a low hum, just loud enough to be perceptible but not enough to disturb anything; more of a white noise really. The only real sound was that of the tread of my shoes striking the belt. Heaven. Do you sleep with a fan on? The TV? The Radio? It's like that. Seconds turn to minutes and then an hour. Quiet. Except in my head.
This isn't enough. You can't run far enough. The speed isn't as fast as it should be. Crank up the incline. How are you ever going to fit into that... wait. What is this about? Remember when it was about health? There was a time I did this to be in shape and now it's just to escape. What am I here for?
Control. It's what I don't have. Lack of control is what keeps me from beginning my career as a bar whore, buying the bag of cookies at the super market, the 750 of vodka at the liquor store, or 3 pair of shoes I really like in 3 different colors. The only control I seem to have these days is in abstaining. I know I can't have just one so I'll have none at all. The only acceptable thing is the miles I put in.
Maybe that's okay. Maybe it's alright if the one thing I can control is the quiet time I get for myself when the only thing talking is the voice in my head sorting out my day. I suppose it could be worse. I could binge and purge the cookies. I could sit at home without food and destroy my liver. I could be laying it out for every Tom, Dick, and Harry that winked at me. I could be broke and buried in boxes of shoes I couldn't possibly find places to wear. Instead I spend my time walking to... nowhere.
Something is missing. Me? It's obviously not the chocolate. It's still there.