Ice Cream and Burrito Oops

The crazy has to go somewhere they tell me.  Like wack-a-mole, cutting down self-destructive nuttiness in one place sometimes, okay always, has a tendency to make it pop up somewhere else.  

So I’m thinking the “yes diet” of saying no to most social plans and extra work opportunities in the interest of a calmer existence, is maybe not so awesome after all.  

Because my tummy hurts.  Because I haven’t eaten that much ice cream since the early 90’s, when, at midnight, I would get lo mein take-out and then wash it down with coffee ice cream milk shakes from Tom’s Diner while sitting on the steps.  

I could do that then, and feel fine.  More than one night in a row.  And I didn’t even know to be grateful for my metabolism, my boss digestive system, both of which are now gone.

Today, no.  No.  Just no.  I’m okay, but I’d rather not feel stuffed this way, and I’d rather not think about the impact on my health of this lapse in nutritional judgement.  The salty sugary fatty salt bomb that I dropped on myself tonight.

Maybe instead of trying to cut out all the insanity I’m better off finding acceptable channels for it.  More painting.  More writing.  Back to tennis.  School fundraising.  And heck, more hosting and socializing.  I don’t know.  

The Yes Diet seemed like such a winner for those two, three days.  And the exercise has given me a bit more awareness of my yesses and what’s getting a yes, but sheesh, extremism in anything seems to not work all that great for this rebel.  More will be revealed.  I’m gonna keep going. 

www.livingeveryminuteofit.com

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