Dear Santa, I’ve been a bad, bad girl I’ve been selfish and careless and not at all wise And to summarize, well, I ate a lot of fries.
Dear Santa, I’ve been a bad girl I’ve eaten recklessly and enjoyed myself thoroughly I’ve devoured sweets like there was gonna be no tomorrow I’ve gobbled up carbs like a woolly mammal in need of more layers I’ve had a bite and then a meal I’ve had dessert AND apple pie! I noshed and picked and nibbled and munched I wined and dined until it fully affected my mind
Dear Santa, I’ve been greedy And then I got greedier
And then I stopped To think about all that I ingested
Dear Santa, I bathed in butter And now I am butter Because I feel like butter And taste like butter And walk and talk like butter And get licked like butter So, you see, I’m afraid I must be butter.
Dear Santa, I’ve made a pig of myself But you can understand me Thanks to that “milk & cookies” love.
You are fat; Tell me, have you gorged-a-lot?
Scene. A large room, painted white. White desk, white curtains, grey couch. A plant on the desk. Generic and green. A smell in the air of Cotton Febreeze and laundry that is clean. Big windows that gaze at a city in distress: filled with bad taste, chaos and waste. Luckily enough it’s a sunny day and everybody knows sunny days make everything better. If you expected me to keep on rhyming, well, you were wrong.
Behind that big, white, shiny desk sat a woman. Upright, cross-legged, stiff everywhere but loose in the hands. She is waiting for her next patient to come and spill the beans. Another individual that had it bad in his teens. She wonders what kind of abuse has this poor soul endured. Was he raped, beaten, or maybe severely insecure? Uuuuh, maybe he’s a repressed gay man that’s been living a lie! She’ll listen to him and then help change his life! She smiled, giddy as a child at the thought of maybe, actually fixing someone, a he or a she. Yes, a naive child, indeed.
A knock at the door. The damaged one is here. “Oh, come in, you poor darling! I’ll make your pain disappear!” She thought that, but she, of course didn’t say it. How inappropriate and awkward would it be?! (No, seriously, on a scale of 1 to 10? 1 being cringe-worthy and 10 being bat shit crazy?) Control yourself, lady! That’s why you got into psychology! Breathe in, breathe out!
(The man enters, head down, shy and polite. He looks positively troubled, disturbed and fucked up. He’s biting his nails, his eyes look like shit and I’m not even gonna talk about the circles underneath!)
The troubled young man: Uhm, hi! I mean, hello, doctor... uhm...
The eager young psychologist (goes in for a repressed hug/awkward handshake type of thing): Amy! Just call me Amy. I mean, doctor Amy. And you must be Chris.
The troubled young man (visibly nervous): Yes, yes I am.
Amy: Please, sit down, Chris.
Chris (he wipes the beads of sweat running off his forehead and sits clumsily): Thank you.
Amy: Tell me, Chris, why are you here? What’s been bothering you?
Chris (with growing despair): Well, you see, I’ve been hiding this thing, this... terrible thing for half of my adult life. I... I seemed to be fine with it but lately it’s just been so much more difficult. I mean I can’t sleep, I can’t work, I can barely eat! Everywhere I go, with every person I meet I have to face this... this demon that keeps tormenting me! I can’t escape it, doctor! (starts weeping loudly)
Chris (swallowing his tears): Amy...?
Amy: Or doctor Amy. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Please go on.
Chris: I’ve been keeping this secret for so long... I can’t bring myself to say it out loud. It’s too hard.
Amy: Chris, you are in a safe environment. You will not be judged here. You have to tell me your secret in order for me to help. Otherwise, there’s nothing I can do. Plus, you’ve already been charged for this session, so get in there, get your money’s worth! ( chuckles then gets embarrassed)
Chris (trying to gather up the courage): I... I have... Whuuuuu... Aaaaa... (losing it) I can’t, I just can’t. I wanna say it but then I can’t breathe and I feel like I’m choking and I’m seeing spots and whoooooooo...
Amy: Ok, Chris, take it easy. Breathe in (does it), breathe out (does it). You don’t have to say it. But you do need to, and what’s more important, you want to! Right? That’s why you came here. Now...start by saying it in your mind over and over again. Ok? Just... say it to yourself.
Chris (slowly nodding and trying to convince himself): Ok, I can do that. I can do that. I can do that! I can do that.
Amy (impatient): Then do it! (softening) Go on, slowly but surely.
(Chris begins saying the phrase in his head. It is visible that he is struggling but the more he does it, the easier it becomes. When he reaches a comfortable state Amy intervenes.)
Amy: Great job, Chris. Don’t stop, keep saying it in your head and when you’re ready start whispering it to yourself. Alright? (he nods). Let’s try it.
(Chris goes slowly and fearfully from no voice to the faintest whisper.)
Amy: And now, you keep at it and everytime I touch your arm, like so (demonstrates with a simple, gentle tap on his arm) you will go up a level. Slowly increasing, ok? Nothing to it, you can do this.
(Chris breathes methodically and nods his head. Things go as planned and slowly we start to make out what he might be saying. Amy is growing more and more excited, she tries to hide it but curiosity is eating at her like a mouse at a big chunk of smelly cheese. She is also breathing methodically in an attempt to contain her emotions and not scare the mouse back into head voice mode. At this point in time, she taps his arm and starts to make out some words.)
Chris: I... have... never...
(Amy listening intently, taps his arm again.)
Chris: I have never had salad.
(Amy’s face drops in disbelief and confusion. That can’t be it. She taps again.)
Chris (louder): I have never had salad.
(Amy could not believe her ears. In a frenzy she started tapping Chris’s arm over and over again, his voice was getting louder and stronger. She tapped madly, he yelled freely: I HAVE NEVER HAD SALAD!!!! They both stopped. They were sitting there, exhausted. Him, relieved and almost victorious. Her, stuck and almost immovable. Her eyes were moving left to right like crazy and then words started bursting out of her mouth like water from a fountain.)
Amy: Salad? You’ve never had SALAD? That was it?! The big secret?! The great, dark demon that torments you at night?! The thing that’s stopping you from being at peace with yourself?! Are you fucking kidding me? Is this a joke? (he has no time to respond, she is really going for the jugular here). I have dedicated all my years, all that energy, all the hopes of uncovering extraordinary past traumas!!! For what?! For this?! For someone who has never had salad?! ( laughs a maniacal laugh, like you see in the movies) I mean, my God, that’s ridiculous! At least tell me you’re gay! Please!!! You have to be gay! I mean look at you! You’re like a hungover Prince Charming! You look neat, you smell like fresh raspberries and your hair is simply surreal!!
Please, God let him be gay!
Chris: I... I’m not...
Amy (not missing a beat): How does that even HAPPEN? HUH? HOOOOW?! How the fuck do you go through life and never stumble upon a salad?! I mean, they’re everywhere, God damn it! Oh my God, I am hyperventilating, I can’t stop, I’m freaking out.
Chris (baffled and confused): Doctor Amy?
Amy: I just... I mean what kind of person has never had salad before? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that! (can’t catch her breath)
Chris: Are you ok?
(Amy nods a desperate “no” while breathing heavily.)
Chris: Take it easy. Just sloooow it down. One breath iiiiiiin, one breath ouuut. Nice and steady. In and out.
Amy (calmer): I’m so sorry, I’m sure there are extraordinary circumstances that lead to this... uhm... situation. That was so unprofessional! I’m so ashamed! I... I have to explain myself. You see, I was so ready to help you. But I was ready to help with issues that I knew how to... well, handle. And then you sprung this on me... and I didn’t know how to help and I... I rrreally need to help. That’s what I do! Otherwise I feel useless. You made me feel useless. Well, no, not you! Just your... situation. I’m making it worse, aren’t I?
Chris: No, weirdly enough you’ve made it better. Finally someone else freaked out over something that I’ve been freaking out about forever! I felt... oddly understood.
Amy: Hmm, did not expect that. I mean, yeah, I know! I intended to do that! That was totally planned. It’s a new method, it’s called “Man In The Mirror”.
Chris: Man in the mirror? Like the Michael Jackson song?
Amy: Yup, mhm, inspired by the man himself. Too late to help him, though. He was long dead when we came up with this! (nervous laughter) I’m sorry, I say inappropriate things when I’m nervous.
Chris (smiles): I wish I could do that.
Amy: So, what happened? How did you manage to avoid salads for half of your life?
Chris: Well, you know, classic “mom dies choking on a salad leaf, boy never eats salad” story.
Amy: Oh my God, really?!
Chris: No, not really. At least I would have had a real “reason” if that were true. Truth is I didn’t eat salads when I was a kid because I found them gross, I guess. Just the way they looked! Everything thrown into a bowl and mixed together so randomly. And then as time went by, the pressure grew, that pressure that I had to taste one! And then I saw how people judge other people that don’t like or don’t eat salad! It terrified me! I got more and more afraid to find out. I much-preferred the coward approach. So, I kept stalling... But I’ve just reached a point where I’ve lied to everyone I’ve ever met! It’s too much
Amy (enthusiastic, figuring things out as she goes): Oh my God, I totally know what’s wrong with you! I mean, not that anything is actually wrong with you! You’re just afraid. When you were a child you were afraid of independence, of the chaos that awaited for you in the real world! You must have been a really insightful child! You correlated the uncertainty and the chaotic aspects of life with...well, salads. But what you did not realize is that you make your own salad, Chris. You choose what goes in there. You are the master of your own salad. It’s perfectly normal to feel anxious, tough to be fair, not this anxious.
Chris: What if I put the wrong things in there? What if they don’t work well together? What then?
Amy: Those are just mistakes you have to make, they’re chances you take. If they work, great! If they don’t, now you know what to discard and next time you make a better salad. I hate cucumbers in my salad! How did I find out? I put cucumbers in my salad! Then I knew I did not want them there ever again!
Chris: That makes sense.
Chris: As for people judging you based on your salad preference, you need to let that go. I’m sure they judge you plenty for all the other things. Kidding! People are assholes and they will judge you for the weirdest “reasons”. You have to stop depending on what others think of you. Allow yourself to be free and experience life! Stop hiding behind a salad, Chris. It’s not very effective. Plus, you’re too pretty to be this afraid.
Chris (blushing): Wow, that’s a lot to take in… You’re pretty rough! And sneaky too!
Amy: Hey, I could have dragged this for another 3 sessions but I think it’s in your best interest to spend that money on salads.
Chris: Haha. You’re funny too!
Amy: You pay for the full package. Are you not entertained?
Chris (coy): Oh, I am.
Amy: So, I know you’ve never had a salad but have you ever had your salad tossed?
(They went back to Doctor Amy’s place - she insisted to be called Doctor Amy for this part - and she made him his first salad. And it was this one right here. I shit you not.)
Disclaimer: There are no precise measurements for this one, so go crazy boys and girls! Your life in a bowl! Go ahead, mix it up, have some fun, make some fucking mistakes and learn how to get over them. Life lessons from a salad. This is what my life has come to.
Step 1: Make the vinaigrette by mixing together the olive oil (aprox. 1/4 of a cup), the mustard, the balsamic vinegar or the lemon juice (1 tbsp), le moutard aka the mustard (Dijon, cause we're a bunch of snobs), the salt and pepper. Needless to say you adjust this to your needs. Have you learned nothing from that long ass story? Oh, also, I only used a third of that vinaigrette for that amount of salad bush. Yes, I call that a salad bush. How very naughty, I know.
Step 2: Dress the salad bush a bit. Not too much. Think erotica not straight up porn.
Step 3: Make it rain with micro-herbs. Bitches loooove micro-herbs. I know I just called myself a bitch. It's self awareness week. Unagi, I am always aware ;)
Also, if you're wondering what the fuck are micro-herbs and why you need them in your life, listen up. They are very tiny herbs. You don't need them, they just look purty and make you feel better about yourself.
Step 4: Bring on the cheese, the figs, the blackberries. Top with pecans (I keep mine in honey, cause it makes me feel precious).
Step 5: You know what to do. Toss that salad, baby. Ain't nobody watching you (read this in Barry White's voice). You're welcome.
Amy: So, what do you think?
Chris(thinking about it): I'm thinking about it...
Amy: Well, think faster, I wanna know!
Chris: I loved it. If all salads are like this, I'm in! I mean, sweet, salty, tangy, soft, crunchy! Man, that was a sweet ride!
Amy(pleased with herself): I knew you were a salad man.
("Barry White - Can't get enough of your love, baby" playing in the background).
And then they tossed the salad and it was gooood (yes, with plenty of ooooo-s).
The last couple of weeks have been loose, I ain’t gonna lie. I have eaten freely and surprisingly enough, I feel no guilt about it. I’m working on this theory that guilt makes you fatter than carbs. I think the truth is somewhere in the middle. Thing is, it didn’t feel like giving up or giving in. It just felt like a break. It felt like I got tired of cooking and planning and controlling everything. So I let the soft animal of my body love what it loves. What it loved most was stuff I did not have to work for. Emotional as I am, I burnt my candle at both ends and I was left with no fucks to give whatsoever. It’s actually more than just digging in the bag of fucks and finding absolutely nothing. I couldn’t even find the friggin’ bag. I didn’t try much because I didn’t feel like it. I felt emotionally numb but not in a bad way. All that urgency and pressure I normally feel just melted like the mozzarella on top of all that frozen pizza I ate. The only thing bubbling these days (besides the Proseco) was my interest in Jane the Virgin, chilling, eating out and doing yoga. I tried to feel bad about it, I really did! Well, more like my mind was trying to make my gut feel bad, but it failed. I think I needed this. I, of course, learned something from it. I had to! Otherwise, it would have been useless. First of all, the second you stop actively wanting and working on this “eating right, moving your ass” thing, you just stop. It’s that easy! It is so easy to start eating unlimited amounts of store bought white crusty bread again, to eat sweets without restrictions, to just buy frozen pizza and sandwich stuff, to forget fruits and veggies exist, to renounce all the good habits you worked so hard on maintaining. It is the easiest thing! Good thing is, if the good stuff was good for your body, your body will miss it and it will let you know. Mainly all those digestion problems you forgot you used to have are back. Oh, and you are not pooping as well as you used to.
If you’re sensitive to bowel movement talk, you should tell me right now! Full disclosure! Nothing's gonna change, though, I’m gonna keep talking about it as long as it’s relevant. And you know it’s relevant! So stop being squeamish and face your poop! It’s important! All carbs and no veggies makes Johnny an inconsistent pooper. Y’all, we need fibre!
The second thing I realized was that these times of “can’t find my fucks, I wonder where I left them” happen because I care too much about everything all the time. It’s forced balance. Now, how great would it be if I could achieve balance throughout instead of these spikes of too much and not at all? Uhm, hello! Isn’t that the goal? It sure is, my emotionally unstable friend, it sure is.
My only regret these past weeks is that I ate even when I wasn’t really hungry. It’s easy to go back to gently stuffing your face and forgetting about the world.
Highlights (some I’m proud of, some not so much)
I went running on my first day on the period train. I worked in the morning, I came back, I covered myself in blankets and pain pills and theeeen out of the blue I decided to get out of my fort of cosy and go running :O Shocker, I know! That’s when I realized I can go running even at night-time. I have no idea why I didn’t consider this before. I’m sure there’s some self sabotage mechanism here somewhere. Sneaky little bastard!
I bought a big bag of Doritos. I ONLY did it because they didn’t have the small one! Cross my thighs and hope to die, well I wouldn’t tell you no lie (improvisation on Elvis). Aaaanyway, I ate some on a bench in the park, you know, as one does. Wait, there’s an upside to this story! I threw the rest away! :O I threw Doritos into the garbage! No looking back, no regrets, no nada! Adios, chicos!
I went running that same day. The wind was cray-cray. I was running and crying. It really felt like holdin’ on for dear life. The program went from 60 seconds of jogging and 90 seconds of walking to 90 seconds of jogging and two minutes of walking. Not fockin’ easy, mate! I barely made it. But hey, I slept like a baby that night.
The Frozen Pizza Day. There was this day. I ate frozen pizza on this day. Once, twice, three times a laaaady! Easily top 10 “My proudest moments”. That’s an act of courage, right there!
I went to yoga on Saturday on a rainy morning! Had brunch in the form of french toast with bacon and maple syrup AND was able to move the next day. Don’t get me wrong, I was in pain, I was sore, but it was the good kind of sore! I worked hard for that pain, I earned that shit!
Notes on running:
1. I will begin by saying that I’m not actually running, I’m “running”. It’s a sort of a faster crawl. I am so bad at it! I am quite possibly one of the worst and it is awesome. It’s such a relief! I’m bad at it and I know it. I have no expectations, there is no pressure to “live up to my potential”! I have no potential, it’s a miracle I’m doing this in the first place! That’s why a sense of victory follows every running attempt because every attempt is a victory. I mean I have heard the theory about the whole view on failure and evolving and all that jazz, but I never actually went through that, until now. I am liberated! I am the world’s fastest slug! Imagine how glorious the posters would look!
2. During - and after - a run (or a “run”) I get what I can only refer to as “The tin man experience”. You know, because you feel all empty on the inside. Because your chest feels like a hollow tin shell and you’re just now learning how to fill it. It really makes you aware of how big your chamber is and how senseless you usually are. I totally recommend it. Approach with curiosity and joie de vie. Good luck! And don’t trust everything you read ;). 3. Do not diss running on Destiny’s Child - Survivor. It fucking works.
Notes on life:
1. I will begin by saying that I’m not actually living, I’m “living”. It’s a sort of a faster crawl. I am so bad at it! I am quite possibly one of the worst and it is NOT awesome. Unlike the “running”, I feel no relief! I’m bad at it and I know it but I have all these expectations, there is all the pressure to live up to my potential! Yup, I even let the commas go, because this is serious! There is no sense of victory, only the sense of barely keeping up. I mean I have heard the theory about the whole view on failure and evolving and all that jazz, but I am a bad, bad learner! I am the world’s liveliest zombie! Imagine how glorious the posters would look!
2. Once in a while I get what I can only refer to as “The tin man experience”. You know, because you feel all empty on the inside. Because your chest feels like a hollow tin shell and you’re just now learning how to fill it. And that chamber gets bigger and emptier while you get smaller and more insignificant everyday. I totally recommend it. Approach with curiosity and joie de vie. If you can. Good luck! And don’t trust everything you read ;).
3. Do not diss Destiny’s Child - Survivor. It fucking works.
When in doubt, just blast some “Survivor” and get your groove back. Ups and downs, baby, that’s how it works. The waves of the sea, almost every frigging melody, roller coasters and life. Don’t go faking it, you knew this, you’re not at all surprised.
That was a week ago. Another week has passed and since then I went from “numb in a alright way” to “numb in a bad way”. Why ? Because I don’t feel “the push”. I don’t have the internal urgency, the drive! There is no will flowing through my cheesy body. Hell, even using exclamation points seems fake and forced and unreal. The force is no longer with me. Thus, nothing happens. I don’t write, I don’t crave, I don’t cook, I don’t care. I just go through the motions. I am now an emotionless eater. If you expected this to be a good thing, if you thought “Hey, since she’s not driven by crazy emotions anymore she should eat right and chill!” Yeah, no. When I don’t care about anything, I don’t care what I eat, so I eat whatever. “Whatever” is hardly ever a good strategy when you’re trying to build a better life. Not to mention I stopped “running” and I was even too lazy for yoga. I desire nothing, yet I don't feel at all like the Buddha. I feel cheated.
My care is on vacation. Waiting for the bitch to come back and help me win at life. Hope she comes back soon, it’s weird around here without her. The house feels empty and all that blues.
Clarification: I am not sad. Do not confuse “numbness” with “sadness”. I actually had some pretty awesome days just “being”. But I am not myself when I don’t want things. I feel like I’m underwater and everything is slower and I am not going anywhere.
I leave you with what has been my anthem these past weeks: