I think I'm wearing the Rug Doctor out. She has given me homework. I think there comes a time when you are such a mess that an hour long session twice a month just doesn't cut it. Her and I have been discussing many things in my life, but one thing is a recurring constant that I cannot get a handle on. That thing is my habit of eating when I am not hungry. Whether it is stress, anxiety, sadness, anger, joy, boredom, relaxation, etc., no occasion seems off-limits (Yay! The Seahawks won, let's eat hot wings! Wait...I hate football...I'd better eat some cheese and crackers). I'm frustrated by this. This is something that weight-loss surgery can't fix. This is all me. This is my "brokenness" that I have not been able to fix. I have moments of greatness when I do everything right and then I fall off the wagon and ruin it all. The Rug Doctor would like me to shy away from terms like "right" or "wrong" or "good" or "bad" and just stick to "making healthier choices." Bottom line is, I'm either being good, or bad, but if she wants me to use her terminology, fine, with an eye-roll and gratuitous air quotes with my hands, fine, "I'm making 'healthy choices.'"
The Rug Doctor wants me to write a letter to myself that is positive and encouraging and will be a reference point when I am feeling "unhealthy choices" coming on. The thing about me that makes this whole process tricky is that it isn't like I don't know what I'm doing. I analyze everything to death, I consider whether I need that cookie or not. I think about what the impact will be and then I tell that little voice of reason to shut the fuck up and enjoy that cookie. It's how I roll. Given that circumstance, The Rug Doctor feels that if I can reference this letter, that I can impact my behavior before it gets out of hand. She wants me to be in a "good place" when I write it. I think her fear is that it is going to read something like this:
I think that is the kind of letter to myself that The Rug Doctor fears I will write. I do believe she understands I can't be like:
"Dear Beautiful, isn't it a glorious day? It's a brand new day where we can achieve anything together. You are beautiful, you are worth it, you have all the power inside of you to make this happen. You love yourself and will put yourself before junk food and empty calories. You can do this because all is possible through self-actualization. Do you really need that cookie right now? Are you really hungry? Just remember that nothing tastes as good skinny feels. You can do this, you have the power. Let's have a carrot."
I almost just threw up writing that just now. I think the best I can hope for is the following.
"Dear Angry Pony,
I am one of the several personalities inside your head. I am Slutty Pony. I'm talking to you. Look, we are all tired of fighting about this food thing up here. We are also tired of you whining about wanting to dress like a slut (okay, so maybe not a slut, but at least a skantily-clad pop-tart) We all know you are not hungry right now. We all know that you want to succeed. We all know there is no real good reason to eat anything. You know you are worth it and that you could totally rock a mini skirt someday...after plastic surgery.
Skeptical Pony has something to say: Look I don't know if we can do this or not, we've never been skinny. I don't know how far we can take this, but we won't know if we don't try. We need you to consider that food is not going to make you happy, it's not going to comfort you and it isn't worth the boredom. I can't promise you anything, because, I don't know if this thing you want can be done, but I do know it won't be done if you don't change your ways. We don't know what skinny feels like, but it probably isn't anything like the feeling you have after eating a KitKat.
Tough Love Pony chimes in: Look, Buttzilla, cut the crap. Stop being a victim and start being a success story. You aren't getting any younger and we are ready to move this process along, so if you could quit screwing around and holding the rest of us back, we would appreciate it. Now, get your ass down to the gym after you don't have that donut that Cross Fit Crazy offered you. Oh, and by the way, we don't care what time schedule anyone else has us on, we are going to do this, no matter how long it takes. This isn't about anyone but you. So, if we could do this one thing before we die, we'd like to.
Sad Pony gives her two cents: I'm really tired of being stuck in this body and there is only one way out, we need you to find the Key Master...wait, wrong screenplay. We need you to focus. We need you to be better than this whole situation. And, you are. We need you to care enough. We need you to dig deep and stop being tired. Tired of trying, tired of obesity, tired of working hard and failing. Stop being tired and start being involved in the process. You have the tools, stop wasting them.
And finally, Bitchy Pony weighs in: And one more thing, we don't care if anyone else is on board. We don't need anyone else and those getting in the way will be eliminated, or at the bare minimum, will be cooking for themselves and possibly doing other things for themselves that may or may not involve lubricant. You know you are strong enough for this challenge so do it and don't let anyone or anything else stop you. Seriously, you are making us all crazy. Get a grip, bitch. Now, focus, behave and if all else fails go be mean to someone that has it coming because you need an outlet for this excess energy anyway.
P.S. We all love you, however, you really are making us crazy. Let's just do this thing, already, okay?"
And that is my letter to myself, with the help of the other little ponies in my head. It will have to do for now, because today, that is good enough and this letter doesn't totally suck.
The Rug Doctor wants me to write a letter to myself that is positive and encouraging and will be a reference point when I am feeling "unhealthy choices" coming on. The thing about me that makes this whole process tricky is that it isn't like I don't know what I'm doing. I analyze everything to death, I consider whether I need that cookie or not. I think about what the impact will be and then I tell that little voice of reason to shut the fuck up and enjoy that cookie. It's how I roll. Given that circumstance, The Rug Doctor feels that if I can reference this letter, that I can impact my behavior before it gets out of hand. She wants me to be in a "good place" when I write it. I think her fear is that it is going to read something like this:
"Dear Buttzilla, put the freakin ice cream away. You are a fat-ass an you are never going to achieve your goals if you don't get your shit together. What? Are you stupid? You like it when your arm-fat whacks against your sides when you apply lotion? Do you want your thighs to give you a round of applause if you try and run? What is wrong with you that you can't seem to keep your hands out of the freaking chocolate? You want to die fat? 'Cuz that is what you are headed for. Fat and Alone wearing Pranx. And you know why you are alone? Because you can't find your dog because you sat on him and he is wedged so far up your fat ass you can't find him. That's right, your butt cheeks suffocated your dog. How does that make you feel, Fatty? You want that cookie, you think that will make you feel better? Go ahead, eat it, I double dog dare you. Eat it. Prove to me that I'm right and that you are stupid...and fat."
I think that is the kind of letter to myself that The Rug Doctor fears I will write. I do believe she understands I can't be like:
"Dear Beautiful, isn't it a glorious day? It's a brand new day where we can achieve anything together. You are beautiful, you are worth it, you have all the power inside of you to make this happen. You love yourself and will put yourself before junk food and empty calories. You can do this because all is possible through self-actualization. Do you really need that cookie right now? Are you really hungry? Just remember that nothing tastes as good skinny feels. You can do this, you have the power. Let's have a carrot."
I almost just threw up writing that just now. I think the best I can hope for is the following.
"Dear Angry Pony,
I am one of the several personalities inside your head. I am Slutty Pony. I'm talking to you. Look, we are all tired of fighting about this food thing up here. We are also tired of you whining about wanting to dress like a slut (okay, so maybe not a slut, but at least a skantily-clad pop-tart) We all know you are not hungry right now. We all know that you want to succeed. We all know there is no real good reason to eat anything. You know you are worth it and that you could totally rock a mini skirt someday...after plastic surgery.
Skeptical Pony has something to say: Look I don't know if we can do this or not, we've never been skinny. I don't know how far we can take this, but we won't know if we don't try. We need you to consider that food is not going to make you happy, it's not going to comfort you and it isn't worth the boredom. I can't promise you anything, because, I don't know if this thing you want can be done, but I do know it won't be done if you don't change your ways. We don't know what skinny feels like, but it probably isn't anything like the feeling you have after eating a KitKat.
Tough Love Pony chimes in: Look, Buttzilla, cut the crap. Stop being a victim and start being a success story. You aren't getting any younger and we are ready to move this process along, so if you could quit screwing around and holding the rest of us back, we would appreciate it. Now, get your ass down to the gym after you don't have that donut that Cross Fit Crazy offered you. Oh, and by the way, we don't care what time schedule anyone else has us on, we are going to do this, no matter how long it takes. This isn't about anyone but you. So, if we could do this one thing before we die, we'd like to.
Sad Pony gives her two cents: I'm really tired of being stuck in this body and there is only one way out, we need you to find the Key Master...wait, wrong screenplay. We need you to focus. We need you to be better than this whole situation. And, you are. We need you to care enough. We need you to dig deep and stop being tired. Tired of trying, tired of obesity, tired of working hard and failing. Stop being tired and start being involved in the process. You have the tools, stop wasting them.
And finally, Bitchy Pony weighs in: And one more thing, we don't care if anyone else is on board. We don't need anyone else and those getting in the way will be eliminated, or at the bare minimum, will be cooking for themselves and possibly doing other things for themselves that may or may not involve lubricant. You know you are strong enough for this challenge so do it and don't let anyone or anything else stop you. Seriously, you are making us all crazy. Get a grip, bitch. Now, focus, behave and if all else fails go be mean to someone that has it coming because you need an outlet for this excess energy anyway.
P.S. We all love you, however, you really are making us crazy. Let's just do this thing, already, okay?"
And that is my letter to myself, with the help of the other little ponies in my head. It will have to do for now, because today, that is good enough and this letter doesn't totally suck.
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