REMORSE: You just had to eat the potatoes, didn’t you?
GAY PANDA: Oh, please, it was half a cup.
DEBAUCHERY: DON’T FORGET THE CORNBREAD, FRIED CHICKEN, AND DESSERT!!!
GAY PANDA: It was delicious. I didn’t finish the cornbread, I haven’t had fried chicken in twenty years, and six bites of dessert aren’t anything to get bent out of shape over.
REMORSE: Who said I was bent out of shape? You’re the one who looked accusingly at the scale this morning. Weight loss isn’t magic, but you keep hoping.
GAY PANDA: I am allowed to throw a dirty look at the scale for not being magical. I’m not going to circle sad faces on my feelings charts about it all day long. But weight loss is tiresome. I thought my thesis was tiresome, but this has it beat. At least my thesis was done in six months.
DEBAUCHERY: AND IT WAS REALLY BORING!!!
GAY PANDA: Yes, it was, Debauchery. Yes, it was. Gay Panda once had dreams of being a college professor strolling about a sunlit campus, in full academic dress with a volume of Cicero or Ovid at hand, and students flapping after with questions about Latin declensions or the Ancient Greek optative. But my major bored me half to death, so I never went on.
REMORSE: Dear Valhalla, you wanted to be a doctor because you liked lab coats, and you wanted to be a professor because you liked academic robes and hoods. Why didn’t you just go into fashion?
GAY PANDA: I wanted to play the part, not design it for others.
REMORSE: Why didn’t you go into theater?
GAY PANDA: I played Third Carrot in my first grade’s rendition of Peter Rabbit and I couldn’t figure out my character’s motivation. That’s haunted me ever since. A good performer should embody a role, and I just stood there looking orange and bewildered. Acting wasn’t for me.
REMORSE: We’re getting sidetracked. You’re back over 181 and you’re still planning to engage in Valentine’s Day Potato Binge.
DEBAUCHERY: AND IT WILL BE AWESOME!!!
GAY PANDA: How can you be a carrot? That’s why I write, you know. It all stems from a youthful confusion I cannot resolve. A carrot has no personality, no system of behavior. Maybe it fights root wars with neighboring carrots, but I don’t see how this is a very interesting conflict. I’ll leave that story to a more creative person and just come up with title suggestions: Saving Private Carrot. Spartacarrot. Dances with Roots. The Last of the Nitrogen Fertilizer. The Red Badge of Carrothood.
REMORSE: YOU WILL NEVER GET BELOW 180 AGAIN IF YOU KEEP DOING THIS!
GAY PANDA: Life doesn’t grind to a halt all because Gay Panda wants to lose weight. And trying to be perfect has never led me anywhere good before. I had a lovely time at the restaurant and just added to the water spike I was already on. Besides, this is good practice. If I ever reach a weight I like, I want to maintain it. That means I can have occasional sugar/gluten treats, but I can’t go nuts with them. Denying myself everything until then almost guarantees I will go nuts in the forbidden territory.
DEBAUCHERY: LET’S GO NUTS!!!
GAY PANDA: Be good or I’ll make you read my thesis. Hey! Instant silence!
REMORSE: You suck.
Last edited by Gay Panda; 02-09-2012 at 10:23 AM.
SW 147 lbs 12/26/11
Goal weight 115? 120? I'll know when I get there.
"When I've fallen off dietary wagons before, the wagon stops, backs over me and leaves me for dead in the ditch. On PB, I can fall off, hang on with one hand, hold a cookie in the other, throw half away, and get right back on." ~Ottercat
Writing on the Cave Wall - my Primal Journal
I just discovered your journal, and have been reading through it, bemoaning the fact that any comments I might make are no longer relevant to the back-and-forth. But on 10-17-11 you wrote:
"It makes me wonder what else in my life I accept as fact when it is not."
How that resonates! To realize that something called 'the staff of life', for pity's sake, might be bad for you. You couldn't mess with anyone more if you were trying.
I think the mental shift going primal made in my life, has made a lot of other changes possible, like my current decluttering.
Although it will be a week or two until I am 'caught up' with your journal, I'd love to hear if, since you began, any other 'facts' have changed for you.
And of course, I am lov- lov- loving your writing!
*Sigh* Gay Panda, as an English teacher with a fondness for teaching writing to middle schoolers *oozing* with things to say, your journal was just the medicine I needed today. You make me laugh, you make me ever-so-jealous of your turn of phrase and writing voice. Divine.
I think moderation is key. I am currently embracing a lovely craft brew that will make the toilet my bestest frenemy in an hour or two and make my tummy pooch out like I'm smuggling boulders, but after dealing with a parent who tried to use her child as a shield for her own freak out about an 88.2%, I wants me my brew. Screw the scale. It will go up, but it will also go down, because I will go back to eating and drinking on plan right after. And anyone who wants to judge can just suck it.
I blog about living life to the fullest at The Hairy Edge. Check it out! (Or not. We can still be friends. )
To be so misled . . . besides nutrition, it has really made me question what I was told by a psychiatrist years ago, that I had a chemical imbalance and in order to live a normal life, I would have to do so under high doses of medication. I did not want to think of myself as being so broken. (Who does?) Looking back, I had some terrible life stresses then, I felt very trapped and was eating poorly, and depression was a completely normal reaction to this situation. My HMO, like many, just wanted me to take drugs and go away, and they blocked my efforts even to take the six lousy sessions of counseling I was afforded per year.
Do I have a chemical imbalance? My brain does work differently, and I won't debate that. But is it so severe that I have to live on a medication that robs me of my physical health and creativity? I'd rather be eccentric and unmedicated and battle the sad faces on my feelings charts than the zombie moving dully through life that I turned into while on Trazodone/Zoloft/Prozac/Celexa/Pick Your Poison.
Anyway, I hope that answers your question, and good luck with decluttering!
Hello, Gay Panda! I am so glad this journal is back up! Seems the Evil Carb Overlords (in cahoots with the Fairy of Debauchery) tried to infect MDA with a Malicious Internetz Carb Virus that we would all download and thus be infected, but the Valiant Techies foiled their evil plan and prevailed . . .
Where's the Like button??
"Be careful what you pretend to be because you are what you pretend to be." Kurt Vonnegut
"I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by." Douglas Adams
"Moderation sucks." Suse
"Wine is a vegetable." Meaty
"Every decision you make, from what you eat to what you do with your time tonight, turns you into who you are tomorrow and the day after that." Cmdr Chris Hadfield