Final score: Five yellow chickies, eight pink bunnies.
And one chocolate bunny head, ears included.
Through the lips, over the gums. Look out tummy, here they come!
Then I tossed the rest into the trash and walked away.
What a woman!
Chocolate is calling to me. Not the good kind, the 88% full of anti-oxidents it’s-so-damn-healthy-you-can-eat-it-for-breakfast-and-you’re-happy-with-just-a-smidge-of-a-bit kind. Oh nooooooo, I’m hearing the seductive call of it’s evil twin, a well known brand of milk chocolate that tastes like…well, it tastes like my childhood. All sweet and sugary. Laden with fat and chock full of stuff that makes my inner nutritionist cringe. But that doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter at all because even if it glowed in the dark from radiation (and it might) what the hell…I WANT IT! And I WANT. IT. NOW!!!
I could eat a one pound bar All. By. Myself. In fact, I would go all ferrel and snap and snarl and growl threateningly at anyone who even looked at it, much less tried to take it away.
And after that, I would round out the day with potato chips. Salty yummy greasy crunchy chips. YAY!!! Let’s hear it for–
For what? Am I hungry? Umm…no. I just had lunch. A nice chicken tostada with extra guac and greens. To be perfectly honest (which I rarely am when it comes to food) there’s NO vacant real estate in belly land right now.
Then why do I feel the need to eat? Especially something loaded with sugar and fat and salt? Stuff that’s no good for me. That makes me hyper and tired all at the same time. That makes me look like I come from a long line of Sumo wrestlers.
WHY?
I’ll tell you why in a couple of minutes. But first go read a post I wrote back in February. Because even though I’m sounding desperate right now, I’m not. But I was back then.
Before I met AnaLisa Rutstein, MA CHHC. Before I took part in her Jump Start Program. Which was NOT a diet but six 45 minute one-on-one phone calls exploring and clarifying my issues around food. With handout and e-mail support.
That’s a whole lot of AHA! moments, believe me. A whole lot of getting back in touch with myself. Slowing down. Breathing. Meditating. Understanding the emotional triggers that send me scurrying to that bag of chips.
My emotional triggers? The biggest one…stress. But not stress like the car broke down or I had words with DearDaughter. The top hit on my personal Stress O’Meter…creativity. Or the insecurities I have surrounding my creative endeavors.
WTF??? Whack upside the head. My whole life is one big creative endeavor. Painting. Writing. Starting a biz…. No wonder my ass is so big.
Does this mean if I want to wear those skinny jeans again I’m going to chuck it all, get a 9-5 somewhere, a boring 9-5, and call it a day?
No. It means when I’m sitting at the computer searching for the exquisite turn of phrase, the perfect thing to say and I find myself getting all jittery and jumpy as a tweaker and I NEED to stuff my face with the bad bad bad bad BAD stuff so I don’t have to THINK…it means I now have the tools to deal with that. Tools like BEING AWARE of what I’m doing. And why I’m doing it. So I can redirect myself by breathing, by acknowledging the emotion, by any number of little MINDFUL diversions.
The chocolate up there? The stuff I really, really wanted? I had some. But not a lot. It was a choice I made consciously. I didn’t have nearly as much as I would’ve six weeks ago. And honestly? If you’d come by and wanted some, that’d be okay. I wouldn’t have gone all ferrel on you.
I might’ve even shared.
Change of subject: Whoo-hoo! Over here! Be sure to check out my new FaceBook page. There’s art. New art every day. Imagine that!!! And if you click the ‘like’ button at the top of the FB page I will like you forever and be your BFF. Because I likes me those ‘likes’. So go ahead, do that RIGHT NOW because you wouldn’t want to forget or anything, right?
I’m writing this post on Easter Sunday. This is the most holy of days in the Christian calendar. On the O’Holy o’meter it’s OFF. THE. CHARTS. Which is why Christians everywhere engage in ritual sacrifice of rabbits and chickens on this most sacred of days. To celebrate the resurrection of Jesus.
What’s not to celebrate? I’d come back for chocolate too.
Pause here to bow your head and genuflect. Show some respect. Because those cute little critters down below… they’re about to have their HEADS EATEN OFF. And they haven’t a clue.
They are the innocents. Who. MUST. Die. For us.
Look at them. So…cheerful. So unsuspecting. Well, maybe not the bunny. Her smile looks rather forced to me. And WHAT is that she’s clutching? OMG! A little purse. She thinks she’s going shopping. Or to the movies. Oh, why doesn’t someone SAVE her??? Where is PETA (Confectionery division) when you need them? Where?
Because if someone doesn’t STOP ME, I will do what I was raised to do. WITH THE CHURCH’S BLESSING!!!
Starting with the ears. I will break them off her tiny little head with my bare hands. Just. Like. That. And then, as she watches (still smiling but it’s a horrified smile) I will BITE PEEP’S HEAD OFF. And. Swallow. It. Whole.
And then I’ll get back to Miss Bunny….
But I will spare you the details. It’s not a pretty sight but it MUST BE DONE. To honor new life. New beginnings. The glories of spring.
Unless you live in the southern hemisphere. Where Easter co-insides with the decent into the hell of winter. That REALLY sucks theologically, doesn’t it? You want my advice? Go eat a chocolate ‘roo. It’ll make you feel better. Maybe.
Put a couple of albums of art up on my FaceBook page. It’s like an Arty Life Lite. Kind of. Come on over and check it out. And while you’re there, PLEASE, PLEASE, PRETTY PLUH-ESE click the ‘like’ button on the top of the page. ‘Cause that Zuckerberg kid said I could trade them in for a PONY when I get enough of ’em.
It’s cold outside. Gray sky, snow on the ground. A taste of the winter that hasn’t happened yet this year. Been snowing for two days. And, at this elevation, raining too. So not much accumulation at the Porterosa. We’re in the canyon, headed down towards the river. But five minutes away, headed uphill…fuhgedaboutit. Schools are closed. Aliens have landed. Storm troopers are skiing off of roof tops. It’s hell out there.
Go up an hour and they got four FEET. That’s feet. Which is why we live down here.
But I’m inside. School’s closed, remember. No work today. I’ve got a fire to warm my toes. A couple of PUPPIES to warm my lap. Tea. Chocolate.
What’s not to bliss about that?