I was brought up to clean my plate. There were starving children in China who would be happy to have that food. I hadn't lived through the Depression, where you didn't know where your next meal was coming from. I didn't work hard all day to make a living to have food wasted. It didn't matter if I wasn't hungry or if I was suddenly FULL. I had to eat it all.
I distinctly remember the "Pancake" incident. Huge pancakes had been made. I eat 2 and felt like I was about to burst and then another was dropped onto my plate. I couldn't eat it. I felt sick.
I was ungrateful. It ended in a scene of tears and raised voices and someone locking themselves in their room for days. (Not me, I wasn't allowed such a luxury.)
My little sister sat there and watched it all in silence.
my sister and meI suppose that's why her girls are allowed to snack just before a meal and pick at their dinner and walk away from half finished plates.
None of them have any weight issues.
While I have gone up and down and UP and down and up and up.
Wow, it's a wonder that I turned out normal.
Yeah, Yeah. I know. Kinda normal.
I mean they won't have to cut the door frame apart to get me out of the house but...
Maybe that's the reason that I've just spent the day eating all the crap in my cupboards and refrigerator..
I CAN'T throw it away and it's entirely too UNHEALTHY to feed to my pets.
So, I'm in a sugar coma. A lethargic zombie.
TOMORROW I will begin.
I will make a sincere effort to make it into old age. To stop fueling my body with junk that I wouldn't feed me dogs.
I'm cleaning house in between snacking. It's a mess.
Last night when I went to bed, laying there with Twinkle snuggled up next to me, I could feel my heart beating. At first I thought I was having a heart attack and then I thought - Oh God, not NOW. I don't want paramedics coming into this messy house.
And then I thought - I really have to start being healthy.
I blame this messiness on growing up where orderliness was more important than creativeness and being told not to waste paper when I wanted to draw.
I also blame it on having my possessions thrown away. On my mothers things being given away or just disappearing from the house and then living in such cold silent sterile environment.
I blame the hair on the steps and footstool on my furry kids and I blame THAT on the memory of my cat being thrown outside. Not for any reason except for being a cat. And when she wouldn't run away...watching her being DRIVEN away as I stood in the driveway sobbing.
(I can't tell you what I happened to my dog after that.
Someday, not today. Not strong enough to go there yet.
But then you would understand why I have my dogs....)
Maybe that's why I'm always drawn to the tale of Edie in Grey Gardens.
She started out normal.
But then she became a recluse, living in garbage and surrounded by cats.
I blame on the fact that when I finished high school, I wanted to go to College to major in English. I wanted to write.
I wanted to minor in Art. To learn all that I could. But I was living at home and told that I needed to forget such nonsense. I needed to learn typing and shorthand. So I went to a junior college. I spent hours in the library when I should have been in class. But a person doesn't have to go to College to learn things. I learned on my own, the things that were important to me.
and then I worked at a Bank. It sucked my heart and soul out of me.
My nieces gave me some books at Christmas about Art and Art workshops and some Inktense watercolor pencils. I squealed in delight. I stated that I could happily stay in my house forever and never leave.
They said that's what I do NOW.
I'm thinking of Edie again.
Next year will be different. I won't let my past define me any longer. I will step out of my comfort zone.
Yep, no resolutions for me. Just to remember: