Switching Gears

This will be my last blog about weight loss, for several reasons.

My last entry was hastily done in an airport, but even so, it was exceedingly boring and a missed opportunity to write about something vastly more interesting. The dinner was mentioned only in the context of what I ate and what I ate was only relative to whether it fell within my self-imposed guidelines. This fixation with losing weight is sucking the fun out of two things I love to do; eating and writing.

Most people have some kind of struggle with body image, I mean, given the environment we live in, how could they not? So, what I am experiencing is not new, it’s not groundbreaking. The ‘poor me’ episodes are tiresome and lazy. It might be different if they were helping me in some way, but they really aren’t. They are actually quite problematic as it relates to my creativity. If I aim to write something every day and what I write is a bullshit diary entry about calories then I am only ‘writing’ in the sense that I am adding words to a page. It is not creating. It’s procrastination.

That dinner could have been an experiential entry. There was plenty I could have said but I didn’t notice what I should have noticed. I was too busy refusing mac and cheese and dessert. When I sat down to lunch a few days later with my daughter and husband, I resolved not to make that mistake again. I was joyful in my time with my family and joyful about the amazing guacamole that I ate unapologetically on a chip. It’s a fucking chip. It’s not my self worth. It’s amazing I can taste anything with my head so far up my own ass sometimes.

I’m sure I will still struggle on a daily basis because not writing about it isn’t going to make the problem go away, but I do believe that it will help me to be less fixated on it if I allow space in my brain for other things to flourish.

To that end – Here are my non-weight related updates for the day!

I had some family over yesterday to celebrate my dad’s birthday. He turned 79, which would have sounded so old to me a decade ago, but not so much now. Every year that hangs on my own frame seems to narrow the gap between my generation and his. His age doesn’t seem quite so far away, which is reassuring and also terrifying.

As a gift, my sister came over early to clean and redecorate his bathroom. She was nervous at first that I would be offended, but on the contrary, I was ecstatic! I avoid my dad’s bathroom because A) I’m not a great housekeeper and B) I have plenty of other shit to do. So it’s out of sight, out of mind. He keeps it reasonably clean, but his tub gets pretty nasty after a while. She whipped it right into shape and now it’s cuter than it has ever been and I am exceedingly grateful. She even apologized for not doing more and promised to come over and help me clean more often. That warms my heart and I absolutely adore her for it.

My dad invited a friend to our get together, which has never happened before. I was happy that he felt comfortable enough to do it. I’ve known dad’s pal for decades and it was nice to see him again and feed him, since I promised him a steak dinner three years ago, forgot about it, and never made good on that promise. Oops! He brought me a really nice bottle of wine, which I accepted graciously. I didn’t mention I don’t drink because it doesn’t matter. It was a sweet gesture and that bottle will go nicely with the rest of my wine stash. I’m building up a nice collection since I don’t stay up all night drinking it.

It was lovely having everyone over but I was glad when they left. I needed a few hours to be by myself. Traveling for work is mentally draining. It is my job to be ‘on’ all the time and in the conference setting, that will literally be from the time the conference breakfast starts until the time I make my way to my room for bed, usually well after midnight. Then, I come home and of course my family misses me and wants some of my time. Essentially I had been at level 10 from Tuesday morning through Saturday afternoon with one-two hours max to take a breath.

I used my down time to watch junk TV, which I adore. I live for mindless entertainment, especially when I’ve been under strain because it requires nothing of me. It’s all give and no take. My guiltiest pleasure at the moment is Love Island. Although, I really don’t feel guilty about it. It’s extremely entertaining to watch young, beautiful people get attached, and often heartbroken, at breakneck speed. I have found myself completely enthralled by one of the cast. Her name is Cashay and she is one of those people with such pure and amazing energy that you can’t help but adore her. She is also stunningly beautiful. I find myself smiling my face off whenever she is on screen and I am rooting for her so hard to find someone who will love her like she absolutely deserves to be loved. I sometimes turn to Twitter to see if I am at one with the hive mind on any given subject and have gotten confirmation that pretty much everyone else who watches agrees that this girl is a treasure.

I’ve also been into the Bachelorette this season. I have watched for a long time but am usually ambivalent about the whole thing, but the current girl, Katie, is powerful, self-assured and stands up for herself. It helps that the majority of the men she has are decent guys. They are so unabashedly affectionate toward each other. It’s almost more fun to watch the men fall in love with each other than with Katie.

Anyhow. That’s what I’ve been up to. Technically this blog is still procrastination on the fiction writing, but that’s a whole different subject for another time.

I Watch Too Much TV

Well yesterday didn’t quite go to plan.

I had managed to stay awake and was working, although I admittedly took a break here and there to watch snippets of this week’s Bachelorette. My dad had gone to the gun range, as he generally does on Tuesdays, and Em was at work. So far, everything was on track.

Then, around 430P, my dad came home and announced that he hadn’t eaten all day. This threw a wrench into the “feed my family” portion of my plan.

On range days, dad usually eats a big lunch late in the day, so he either skips dinner entirely, or has a small snack. I was counting on this because I knew Emmitt was coming home late after the gym and would be hungry. This meant that the Hello Fresh meal would be divided between just he and I, allowing Em the lion’s share because he would be starving.

Now, I was faced with a starving old man.

I leapt into action. There was a meal with 2 large flatbreads and I figured the logistics so that I could build one for my dad and then hold off on building the other until Em got home, so it would be fresh. Man, I’m a genius.

I was watching the remainder of the Bachelorette while I chopped vegetables. Once that was over, I had to decide if I was going to watch something else while I finished cooking or just leave it be. Not a hard decision, right? Wrong. My dad is very choosy about what he watches on TV and if it’s something he doesn’t like, you’ll hear about it and it will make the whole watching experience completely unpleasant.

I watch the Bachelorette on Hulu, which is where some of dad’s shows also live. The rest of them are on the DVR. If I can find nothing in either place, we will go to Prime TV and watch The Wire. There was a new episode of So You Think You Can Dance on Hulu and that is a show that dad likes, so instead of switching platforms, I just stayed there and quietly slaved away in the kitchen.

There is a cat that I gave to my dad years ago because it is an asshole and can’t get along with other cats. When dad moved in with us, this asshole cat returned as well. We tried to let her live inside, but she immediately returned to the behaviors that made us get rid of her in the first place, so she got banished to the back porch/yard. She has plenty of room, food, shelter, toys etc… but she still likes to pretend like she’s dying all the time.

I tell this story because while I was trying to be zen in the kitchen, this fucking cat was yowling like it was on fire. I tried to ignore it but it just kept getting deeper and deeper under my skin until I very loudly yelled at it to shut the fuck up. At this point, my dad shuffles out of his lair to find out what’s wrong, so now I have to explain the situation to my dad, not once, not twice, but three times because he’s deaf. So now I’m in full on FML rage mode and out comes the wine.

I down the first glass of chardonnay while finishing up dad’s flatbread. I serve it to him and start his TV show.

He is always confused by new food, so I had to explain to him how to eat it, he does it wrong anyway and all the toppings fall off and he’s whining about that and I wonder why I bother while I pour another glass of wine.

I sit on the couch to watch a little of the show and get a text from my kid. She’s coming over because she’s sad. Shit. What happened?

We finish up So You Think You Can Dance and dad has gotten into this mini-bundt cake that I got him yesterday, so I am obligated to find him new entertainment. I switch over to the DVR and find an episode of Chopped. It’s one we’ve seen, I tell him so, he argues with me, I don’t give a shit so I let it run. The kid arrives, I hand dad the remote and retire to my bedroom for a smidgen of privacy so I can find out what’s going on with her.

Turns out, the kid had to put her mom’s boyfriend’s dog to sleep because they are currently on vacation. That sucks so much ass. I comforted her the best I could but really, when my kid is sad no one can comfort her like her dad. He arrives just in time, sweaty from the gym and envelops her in his juicy embrace. It’s a testament to their bond that she didn’t bat an eye.

Once we got the kid leveled off, Em retired to the shower and I headed back to the kitchen to build his dinner. My dad has been kind enough to pause the show I already watched and didn’t want to see again. Thanks dad. I pour another glass of wine.

I finish making food for Em, chat with him and the kid for a while while they eat, then they both retire to the garage to hang out. By now, Chopped is over and I should probably get ready go to bed, but I’m still pretty amped up so I figure I’ll watch an episode of Big Brother and then retire. I suggest to my dad that he go ahead and shower early, it’s around 730P at this juncture, and he usually showers at 9, but he hadn’t had his nap so I was banking on him being drowsy and fucking off to the other side of the house.

So I tell him my Big Brother plan and he says that’s a show he can ‘tolerate’. Greaaaaat. As I’m scrolling through all of the recorded shows I can’t watch because of him to get to Big Brother, he spots a new episode of Naked and Afraid XL. He goes, “OOH!”, like a kid on Christmas morning. So instead of watching BB and going to bed, we are off to the races with the naked people.

I open another bottle of wine. I am onto Pinot Grigio now.

Naked & Afraid XL ends and I am sure, POSITIVE, that dad is going to leave. Now it’s a moral imperative that I watch BB because I can’t let him win. Then I make a terrible mistake.

There is a new show on Starz called The Rook. I started watching the first episode on demand a few days ago, but after a few minutes decided it was something that dad might like too. I stopped watching and set a series recording. That recording showed up in my DVR list and I told dad I thought it was a show he might like but that we’d have to catch up on the first episode. So then he starts arguing with me about how what we have recorded says Season 1. Yes dad. Season 1. EPISODE 2. “Huh?” says dad. “It’s the first season, but there is another episode before this one. “Huh?” says dad, dramatically squinting and cupping his ear in my direction. FUCKING KILL ME.

This continues until he finally understands and then settles his ass further into the couch ready to start episode one. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

So we watch episode one. He likes it. He has gotten used to binge watching TV and he knows that episode 2 is available and he’s ready to watch it too!

I pour another glass of wine and microwave a hot dog because no one made me dinner. I followed that up with half a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and another glass of wine because at this point, who even cares?

The second episode ends and I tell dad I’ve got to go to bed. He agrees. So off we both go. It’s almost 10:30P, my stomach is full of hot dogs and ice cream and very, very acidic wine. I was up at 1A, of course, and slept fitfully for the rest of the night.

So, big surprise, I’m sleepy again today.

I really need to get better at just telling my dad to fuck off so I can watch TV, but it’s JUST TV and I don’t want to hurt his feelings and let’s be honest, I can stand to watch less of it. At the heart of the matter though, it’s not the TV. It’s just being by myself, doing something I want to do without having to consider someone else’s feelings for just a few hours. It doesn’t seem like too much to ask.

P.S. – The entire time I’ve been writing this, my dad has been in the room next to me alternatively coughing and clearing his throat, so I’m basically already in a mini, life-hating rage and it’s only 10A. I can’t even be alone with my thoughts when I am physically alone in a room. I have NO WHERE to escape. My only option is to leave, except I can’t because this is where I work and ALSO I shouldn’t have to leave MY OWN house to get a fucking second of peace. My whole life revolves around other people and their needs and their happiness and I’m just tired. Today I am TIRED.