I want to be thin again.
So I eat less, drink less, and work out more. This of course leaves me hungry and sober late at night.
What do I choose to do? Drink Nyquil. So I knock out, so I no longer feel the hunger pains that are keeping me from resting:
a snap shot of how I’ve handled any uncomfortable situation for the last several years. Knock yourself out.
At least this time I didn’t drive myself to the store and binge on something that would certainly make me feel like death the next day. A small triumph, I waited it out. I ate some raw spinach and convinced myself that I didn’t really need anything, but with my eyes flung wide open staring at my various screens, the pain of what my body was telling me became too much and I searched my cupboards for either a forgotten can of tuna or yes, cough medicine. I would have been satisfied with a benedryl, but as the elyxer slipped past my tongue I was thankful for its likeness to my favorite medicine: alcohol.
I repeated to myself that if I used restraint now, I could eat whatever I desired when I woke up. The fantasy; a scoop of tuna or a plate of eggs. Modest desires.The Nyquil had the effect as if I had eaten a plate of cookies. I didn’t leave my bed. Couldn’t open my eyes and cursed myself for drinking the NyQuil instead of just waiting it out and occupying my restless state last night. Get up, get up. I could not, and I slept until noon, snapping in and out of my drugged state to answer the phone or drink some water, reaching out into the muggy atmosphere of my room like a blind person.
Eventually when the guilt of wasting my day rattled me from my excessive slumber, I was paralyzed by the heavy decision of what to eat. I had promised myself anything. I can’t be trusted with so many options. All these desires held me prostrate with confusion and laziness. The heat outside eliminated any kind of lengthy walk, making the short one to the coffee shop seem impossible. My desperate hunger had abandoned me during my repose and I was left only with the laziness and the knowledge it would soon return with a fury. I’d recently realized I couldn’t keep any kind of substantial food in my home. Because I will eat it in the middle of the night, so the easy task of walking to the fridge and making myself breakfast did not exists.
“I could take my car,” I thought to myself. Then I could leave from wherever I am to the gym, which will surely revive my energy, but this idea was soon dashed by a vision of me sweating in my car searching for a parking spot and having to dine in gross gym clothes.
I puttered about my room looking for clothes, if only I could get pants on the decision might become clearer. The cough medicine still lingering around the corners of my mind keeping me confused looking for something then forgetting about it entirely, distracted by the glimpse of a rib in the mirror- something I hadn’t seen in too long. I allowed myself the pat on the back. Success! I didn’t eat last night! But now I can’t function.
B12, I have b12 somewhere perhaps this will knock off the haze long enough for me to put my shoes on, long enough for me to get coffee. This brings a totally different struggle. How much coffee should I have before I go to work? I don’t want to be laying awake again tomorrow night snuggled with the ugliness of hunger.
The food I desire means I have to walk in the heat past a security guard in front of a weed store that will certainly try and talk to me. I can’t be burdened with that today. If I go to the store will I be judged for eating the same thing from the deli every day? If I take my car. No, I can’t do that, I’m not that hungry.
I feel frozen; held captive by obsessive thoughts. Why can’t it just be eat when you’re hungry, drink when youre thirsty? I shake off the lingering spirit of NyQuil enough to walk out the door. I stand for a moment in the street, then let my feet decide for me.
I want to be thin again.