Chronicles of a Late Bloomer

In addition to packing my lunch and dinner for the day, I also packed a gym bag with shoes, socks, and sports bra. You may remember that I broke my tailbone during Christmas holiday, and was unable to start an exercise regimen at the same time as changing my eating habits. That’s okay, though, because for the first few months, I was able to steadily lose weight on those food changes alone.

Now, though, it’s 5 months later and really the tailbone has healed up nicely. I no longer really need the coccyx cushion in my office chair (though I still use it because, dude, coccyx cushion). Aside from some weekend acrobatics, I haven’t really put it to the test, but I intend to. Tonight. After work. At the Jimmy.

Welcome to Phase 2: Move it and/or lose it.

I packed lunch and dinner for myself today. It’s the first time I’ve done so in over a month. Maybe two. That was the secret to my good eating at the beginning of the year — taking the time to nurture and care for myself in all kinds of ways, including by preparing and packing my own meals — and yet, I’ve let it all go to the wayside. I don’t want to care for myself anymore and I’m having a little tantrum about it today.

It’s childish and I’ve spend thousands of dollars in therapy exploring this urge, but I still have the hidden fantasy that someday, somehow, someone else will take care of me. I think it comes from having too many siblings and always having to fend for myself, but regardless of where it comes from, there it is. I want my boss, my neighbor, my boyfriend, my dog, my parents, my friends, and my congressman to take care of me.

Maybe, I sometimes think, all I have to do is find the right person, and then I’ll be taken care of for life! Really, doesn’t that sound like someone you’d want to be in a relationship with? Someone to latch onto you and suck the life and energy and money out of you forever and ever amen?

Yeah. Me, too.

Today I am trying to be adult enough to realize that this is not going to happen. That it is up to me. Life goes on. Pack your own damn lunch, Mal.

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I feel fat.

Probably because I am.