Home / Essays / 2016 / March / C.O.A.E.E(Confessions Of An Emotional Eater)- Week 8

C.O.A.E.E(Confessions Of An Emotional Eater)- Week 8

Monday was a very pensive day, very slow and kind of funny... but not in a "haha" way. More in a "hm, this feels weird" kind of way. Lucky for me I kept my new found "A soup a week" tradition that is just perfect for days like these. Here you have a Romanian sour soup with chicken that I made on Sunday.

Morning started with the old apple crumble and continued with a slice of rye bread with butter, kabanos, cheese and tomatoes for a before-work snack. A banana for a after-work snack and soup for lunch. Dinner was chicken schnitzel with roasted sweet potato fries, green beans and white cabbage salad.

I also made some nuts&seeds honey bars with added goji berries for chewiness and dark chocolate for obvious reasons. These are awesome! If you're interested in the recipe just ask for it. Yeah, I'm talking to you. Express your feelings, this is a safe environment.

Tuesday. The short version: The last of the crumble topped with a yummy dollop of vanilla yogurt. Lunch was soup. Dinner was leftover schnitzel with sweet potatoes and peas. Snacks: aubergine spread on rye bread with tomatoes, and nutty bars.

Tuesday. The long version: International Women’s day. I treated myself to crumble and tea in the morning. I wrote a lil’ status on Facebook (because where else can one express thoughts these days?!) wishing women this and that in a burst of “girl powah to us all”. For the first time ever, I was inspired by my own words ("omg! no you didn’t!", complete shock and all that jazz) and decided to woman up and go walk the walk. Or run the run for that matter. My first run. Lord, gimme the strength to not fall down on my face yelling “Meeeercy! Big fat desperate meercy!”.

Aaaanyway, what I am using to guide me through the madness is the C25K aka Couch to 5 k. Pretty fockin’ accurate. First day goes like this: We began… Who’s we, you ask? Me & my juicy booty, heyo! Damn, yoga pants are hot! Where was I? Right. We begaaaan with a 5 min warm-up walk. I started this step foolishly enthusiastic, feeling like “Uh, I can’t wait to start running!”, “Uh, my ass feels great in these pants”, “Uh, I’m gonna skip a little, just because I can!” You naive, delusional, poor soul. Waaaait fooor it! Step two is running for one minute. Oki, oki, that went well. Exciting even! Step 3: walk for 90 seconds. Then... repeat. “Begin running for one minute. This is run 2 out of 8.” This is when I began to feel the fear creeping in. Enter Eminem.

“His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy” - Yo, you read my motherfucking mind! Go, go, don’t stop! I pick up the pace, pour some willpower into this biatch!

“No more games, I'm'a change what you call rage / Tear this motherfucking roof off like two dogs caged / I was playing in the beginning, the mood all changed” - Word, the mood did change. Breathe, breathe, don’t panic, keep going.

“Success is my only motherfucking option, failure's not”- This one here really put some gas in my engine, some coal in my stove, some hot sauce on my fries! Mmmm... fries. I drool, but it’s windy so the drool hits me right back in the face. Rinse and repeat, baby, rinse and repeat!

“Feet, fail me not / This may be the only opportunity that I got / You can do anything you set your mind to, man”- By this point I was exhausted and could hardly inhale. I was exhaling way too much, though. No, it didn’t make up for the lack of air going in! That’s not how it works. But I made it! I made it to the “ping” sound that announced the end of that 1 minute. Man, a minute can be really fucking long. “Now walk”. “Run 3 of 8”. Keeping it together, it’s getting harder to breathe, though. “Now walk”. “Run 4 of 8”. Ah, crap, can’t catch a full breath, my nostrils are flaring, my air ways are starting to sting like bees on pms.“Now walk”. “Run 5 of 8”. I feel heavier, my legs feel like linguine, my right side starts to hurt, like I’m being stabbed with a very tiny but very real knife. I guess; I wouldn’t know. “Run 6 of 8” I can’t do it, I won’t make it, it stings too much and hurts too bad. Those 90 sec of walking seem to be getting shorter and shorter; And boy, those 60 seconds of running sure look like a bitch now! If only I could make it to the end of this run! “Now walk”. “Run 7 of 8”. Omg, I can’t believe I have to run again! How will I pull this off?! I feel like I’m running towards my death while also having a fever! I am burning up, my chest is like a big box of needles, my head feels like a boiling potato and I’m losing control over my legs! I am, also, very aware of my butt-cheeks. I am waving the desperate flag right about now. Somewhere there is that little voice (a combo between hope and ego) that keeps me going, just doesn’t wanna give up. Come on, I’m sure that by the time you reach that woman with the stroller, you will be done. That thought gives me comfort. I’m almost there! I reach her! I pass her! Goddammit, it’s not over, it didn’t ping! I feel like collapsing into fetal position and giving up. I don’t. “Now walk”. “This is run 8 out of 8”. Oh dear Lord, I can’t breathe! How do I do this if I can’t breathe?! On the other hand, come on, just one more! One run more, one minute more! You can fucking do this! And I did. Barely. But I did. “Now walk”. “Begin cool-down”. Jesus, even my teeth hurt. How is this even possible? I got home. Could not speak. Everything felt hot, everything was burning, in different ways. I sat down and continued trying to breathe. After I was able to say some things, everything started getting cold. My face was red in some places, blue in others :)). Not proper blue, just pale. I took a shower and wrapped myself in warm clothes and a fluffy blanket. New location: bed. Took me like a half an hour to get to breathe normally again. I checked “Run” on my to do list.

One of the most satisfying things I’ve ever checked off a list. Why? Because I hardly ever thought I’d try running. Because it was very challenging. Because I felt like I would die half way through it, but I lived to tell the story. There was this one moment, before the desperate crawl-for-your-life struggle started, when I felt free. I felt like crying and laughing at the same time. I felt this hurt in my chest that has my dad’s absence written all over it, this pain that I can’t lose, I can’t run from, but I can shake while running. Maybe if I shake it enough it will eventually melt. It will still be there but maybe it will just get easier to stir it into life. Like the yogurt into a squash soup. It’s unbelievable how much my struggle in life resembles my struggle today. There is a lot to learn here. About limitations, about setting goals, about perseverance, about trying and failing, accepting and starting again and again. When I was walking home I realized that our destination is the key. You may get tired, the load you carry is too heavy, you may stop and recharge but eventually you gotta get up and go home. Why don’t we look at goals/dreams the same way? We get lost on the way, we find a comfortable place somewhere and get cozy there. Come on, we’ve lingered enough. Get up, it’s time to go. As Dorothy put it “There’s no place like home”. That being said, I will go back out there to get bitch slapped by the wind and hit by the rain. I won’t say “Let’s see how long it lasts” even though that was my first instinct. Why? Cause that’s just me being a dick to myself and also giving me an easy way out. It’s hard, I’ll probably won’t make it. And then, I get to be right and feel miserable. My whole “almost adult” life my verb has been “trying”. I am always “trying” goddamn it! I’m done trying, I wanna be doing! "Do or do not. There is no try" that green little shit said. Oh, there's a hell-of-a-lot of "try", but I'm done with it!

I’ll tell you all about how the second run will go. I don’t know when that will be, let’s see if I can walk tomorrow :)). Or lift things. Or grab things even. I expect the worse and hope for a pleasant surprise.

Wednesday. The day after the run. I woke up to realize that I can walk! It hurts, but I can move! My left side seems to be more affected than my right one and all of my joints are feeling it. I expected much much worse so now I can consider myself lucky. Ah, the secret to a happy life.

I declared this the day of sitting and writing. 

Breakfast was omlette au fromage with avocado toast and tomatoes. Snack: Spiced milk with nutty bars. Later snack/ lunch: Aubergine on toast again. Dinner: Leftover schnitzel everything. Other dinner: le soup. 

Weather seemed really nice so we got dressed and decided to get a taste of the sun. As we were putting our shoes on, the sun went away. Forever. I try to not take it personal, but some days that's very hard to do. Without the magical effect of this rare beast we call sun, the outside world was really cold and bitchy and nothing like we expected it to be. We reached the corner of our street and decided that this was the opposite of a pleasant walk. The highlight of the day was seeing a poop on a rock. We like to call it "The poop on the rock" day. Why? Cause that's something you don't see everyday! I mean it was a really tall rock! How did the poop get there?! It just makes you wonder: How did the dog do that? Was it a long legged dog? Was it a tiny dog that jumped up there to poop like a king? I mean... I hope it was a dog... We'll never know. That's what makes this one of those great suburban neighborhoods mysteries. Wow, this is good stuff! No, really, I encourage you to read this to your kid as a bedtime story. Give them something to talk about 15 years later in a psychiatrist's office. 

Over and out! 


All I remember about this day is what I ate and the fact that I made banana bread in a cake shape because it was our housemate's birthday

Summary: Chai flavoured porridge with berries and pecans on top, cashew nuts, soup, slice of bread with butter and cheese, an apple, kebab with salad and a bite of the banana bread covered in sour cream and nutella sauce. That is not a picture of my portion, because mine was tiny and thus a lot less impressive.

Oh, I also had  6 sips of Coca Cola :O. I haven't had that in forever and a day! My stomach totally felt it and disapproved. Coke, ain't nobody missing you! You're out!

Friday. Cleaning day. Garden cleaning day. Friend coming to visit daaaaay! Oh, happy daaay! Sing it with me! Ooooh, haaappy daaay!

It started with leftover chai porridge from the other day. Theeeen, I grabbed two homemade spring-rolls (made the day before) and a kiwi for a in-between cleaning snack. For lunch I had soup and banana bread because omnomnom-no-self-controool. For special late night dinner because friend is coming I made the ultimate cheat pizza. I bought some dough from the Italian place around the corner, made a quick sauce and used whatever meat and cheeses I had in the fridge. The result was a fluffy, juicy pizza with little effort and for a very low cost. Best of all, it gave me a very comfy feeling. Combine that with wine and one of your oldest, dearest friends and you get happiness. Also, he brought a box of tiny booze chocolates! We were well behaved and only ate one piece per person. After all, we were pretty full from the pizza and the banana cake ;). Naughty-naughty.

Saturday was my favorite day in a long time.  We had a purty breakfast, went to yoga and then had brunch. Like fucking adults that wake up early and go to yoga and eat well. We are clearly getting old. Where are the good ol' days when we used to get drunk and eat shawarma at 6 in the morning and then fall asleep on the toilet and fall on the floor?! I'm not saying more. You'll just have to guess which did what. Look at us now downward dogging and sweating the good sweat. I'm so proud I wanna throw up.

Then brunch was a delight. Delight=the whitest word in the whole wide worrrrld (say it with Britney tongue-swirls). Blueberry french-toast with bacon and maple syrup and conversation. Man, I looove good conversation! You cannot buy that shit! Nothing compares to great conversation and brunch! After yoga! That just spells perfection! Everything fell into place. 

The second part of that day was spent eating kebab, getting dressed, going out, drinking gin&tonic in reasonable amounts, eating pizza in very reasonable amounts, then going back home early because I caught a cold again and I felt crappy. Happy wellness state lasted successfully for half a day. I won't take it personally. I won't take it personally. Repeat mantra and go to sleep.

Sunday. Big booty brunch day. I baked a bread, put together a caprese salad (with the milkiest mozzarella I could find), some good cheese, lovely Italian salami and some of that magic garlic&basil butter. You know it was good, I don't have to sell this, this baby sells itself! With this I drank two types of improvised smoothie-juice things: a carrot, apple and ginger one and a grapefruit and mint one. Why so desperate? Because I was sick and it wasn't subtle so I tried my best to help myself.  What followed was a Japanese feast: beef ramen, prawn gyozas and sushi. We took a lot of that to go because we couldn't eat everything at once. We also stopped for donuts. They had an offer we couldn't refuse! Long story short: we bought 12 donuts. Don't worry, we shared them with other people too! Well, kind of. We stuffed our faces while and after watching Bradley Cooper's fine ass in action in the mediocre movie Burnt. 

This is truly the end of this week. You better believe it, cause it's all I've got! Santa's bag is empty! He ate the cookies, he drank the milk and now he's asleep underneath your tree, drunk on life and carbs. Don't worry, Santa, we still love you. Because we understand. Belly wiggle and goodbye! (mic drop)