It’s been exactly a month since I began a strict eating plan. No desserts, sugary foods, breads, fried food. I even pass on rice most of the time unless it’s brown. Eat a vitamin almost every day, drink protein shakes if I happen to exercise, and ordered more salads in one month than I have in almost three decades. It’s helping my self control, but I still lack the will power to achieve perfection. I hate the die in dieting, dying to fervent desires that were long accustomed to being instantly gratified.
It’s a lesson that needs be carried into every other aspect of life. Particularly in my relationship with my parents. Try as I might (and I really don’t try very hard) I cannot maintain a peaceful demeanor when placed within ten feet of them. They love me like crazy, and I am fond of them as well, but possibly more an fondness to the idea of who they are than to the actual personages I encounter vis-à-vis. Must learn to die to myself, die to my temper, in hopes that I’ll learn to truly accept them, just as they are, which is exactly what I’m so desperately seeking and getting worked up about. Getting fit is no effing joke. But what use is a rock hard body when my heart is letting itself go.
WYSINWYG 