Where is My Wagon?
Monday, January 25, 2016
So I fell off the wagon.
But I didn't just fall off, I dove off, rolled a few times down a hill, bumped off a few boulders, slid down a muddy path until I flopped face first into a pile of manure then slowly skidded into the river and hung out there, all pruney and wrinkly, for a few years.
I didn't just fall off the wagon, I couldn't even see the freaking wagon from where I landed. Helllllllllloooooooo? Can anyone see my wagon? I could really use a wagon right about now.
But I'm back. I'm here. I'm still finding myself and my voice and my laughter (it's hard to find humor when you are bone weary exhausted) and owning up to the fact that this will be a lifelong struggle. It's going to be a job. It is going to take time, energy, willpower, stamina, self-control, motivation, and all of that dooky. I'll quit calling it dooky when I'm a little deeper into the success portion of this adventure, I'm pretty sure.
Anywhoodle, I went to dinner with my family today for a pre-planned cheat meal (preplanned are the only type I am allowing myself these days). I ordered said cheat meal.
(Skip over the next sentence if you have an inability to resist carbs or gravy)
It was farm to table chicken, mashies, cornbread stuffing, and greenie beanies. There was also gravy. There may have been a tater tot appetizer AAAAND maybe there were also a few fried pickles that wandered their way over to our table.
It was good. I didn't finish it. I know, what the H@!! right? I DID NOT FINISH IT.
What the heck? What is wrong with me? I love mashed potatoes like, well, like a fat girl loves mashed potatoes and don't get me started on tater tots. In a previous life I started a cult that worshipped tater tots and I was their religious leader until I ate all of the tater tots by myself and they kicked me out of my own cult.
Anyway, you see, I was full, and while it was good it wasn't amazeballs and, well, I was full. So I stopped eating.
I think I can see the wagon over there in the distance.