Deprivation.

I’ve mentioned one or one hundred times over the past couple of weeks that I am trying to eat healthy again and get back on the whole exercise, fit and trim bandwagon. I don’t really know why I’m obsessing over this, and I am obsessing, but I think it’s because I know there’s a pair of jeans in the back of my closet that is one size smaller than what I am currently wearing. Never mind that there are also jeans in my closet that are two sizes bigger than what I am currently wearing, and forget the fact that I could probably get those smaller jeans on if I lept across the room with Earl holding my jeans open so I could squeeze into them.

So I’ve gone from the cheeseburger and fries for appetizer, prime rib for supper set to the typical salad saga. I’m carefully measuring out one cup of Cheerios for breakfast, lest one extra Cheerio invade my cereal bowl and throw off my calorie count. I’m faithfully eating salad, salad and more salad with fat free dressing for lunch and supper. I’m balancing my protein intake with a “smart-pak” of crackers with peanut butter. For supper it’s, what else, more salad and a sandwich with some baked, low fat, low taste tortilla chips on the side.

God damn it I want a Big Mac. Or a big juicy Double Whopper with cheese and bacon.

I think my brain is my biggest enemy. Because I’m not really eating what I want to eat, but rather what I think I should eat, I’m constantly thinking about how good an afternoon at Chick-Fil-A would be. I want to park one of those mall tables with attached chairs right in front of the restaurant counter, leaving room for someone to join me in the other molded chair and I want the counter person to just bring on the food. It doesn’t even have to be a Chick-Fil-A. I’d settle for any diner, anywhere in the world right now. Then I start thinking about how selfish I am. Memories of “there’s starving children in Africa” from my childhood rear they’re ugly head when I used to yell “But Ma, I’m starving!!” I think about all those hundreds of thousands of people suffering in the aftermath of the tsunamis. They’d probably like to graze through an A&W with me too.

This constant counting of calories in my brain has got to stop. “If I eat this tic tac, I’ve added 10 calories, that means an extra 35 seconds on the exercise bike tonight.” I think my caloric intake has fallen from around 2500 calories a day to just shy of 1000. I think my body is mad at me. It’s yelling various things, like “You stopped feeding me.” “Why are you doing this?” “You’re exercising twice as much with half the amount of food.” “You’re an ass.”

I think tonight I’m going to splurge and cook something rather than just slap some fake-turkey and fake-cheese with a smattering of mustard between two airy pieces of bread.

If you want to IM me afterwards, I’ll be on the exercise bike.