ALCOHOL

ALCOHOL can be dangerous.

I remember reading a book on the Zodiac when I was younger, and there was something about Pisces being prone to addiction....a life of excess and escape. So that has always been in the back of my mind; I pay attention to how much I drink, and I know when to stop. I never used drugs excessively. If I heard that something was too good or too fun, I didn't even let myself try it. Why dance with the devil? I hate dancing.

But the life of excess and escape did not escape me. It came in the form of cheese, and dessert, and anything else that you can put on a plate or chew. (I almost said swallow, but some of the people who read this blog are not to be trusted with a dangling dirty joke).

I'm a social eater. Do you want to see me? let's eat. Do you want to talk or work something out? Let's hash it out over breakfast at 2am, or coffee and dessert (decaf with splenda? It makes me look like I care). Celebration? That warrants fancy food AND dessert, coupled with a dress, (if I can find one that fits).

When I am sad or weak, I don't drink til I black out, I don't sleep around, I don't gamble- I do it all with food. I screw myself. Because I'm HOT.

I was never bulemic, because I hate throwing up, but also because the empty stomach is not a payoff. I'd rather have the sharp pain in my left shoulder that comes from overeating. It tells me I am alive, for now.

What I'm saying is that DENIAL IS TASTY.

I have lost 50 pounds. But it has taken me over a year.

If food were alcohol, I'd be dead, or in jail.

I fall off the wagon every day...that's not an option with other addictions.

I went for a walk yesterday for an hour, even though my back is messed up. I even ran some of it. Baby steps...

THEN WHAT DID I DO? I ate. and ate. and ate. Trying to fill the hole.

The bridesmaid dress should motivate me. The 4 months on a cruise ship sweating my ass off should motivate me. I should be motivated. But all I want to do is eat and then tell people that my shoulder hurts. It's fascinating!

Things are going well- with the exception of a mini-chapter closing recently, which was rather sad- but overall...good. I shouldn't be in this place. I am an otherwise strong, independant, motivated person who is currently overwhelmed and weak.

Food is my BFF. We can never break up, because you have to eat something every day. I have the half of the necklace that says "BE FRI," because I am the dominant (aka more popular) friend. Onion rings get the "ST ENDS," and likes it.

I thought this was going to be a funny blog, but it turned out to be sad. Like a kid who dropped her ice cream cone. Stupid kid. Treat the ice cream with RESPECT!

I am trying, but it f***ing sucks....every day. Excuse my French fries.

P.S. For my funeral...in lieu of flowers, send cake. I want to be buried surrounded by a lot of colorful- NO! Better yet, bury me IN cake....just a bunch of crumbs that form a kind of "fill dirt." Amazing Grace, how sweet the cake. Now THAT would be funny. The best-smelling funeral EVER!! And if someone frosts my grave with a tub of Betty Crocker Cream Cheese frosting, I will laugh my dead ass off for eternity.