Do you ever just get sick of hearing yourself talk? Or think? I'm a week away from Haircut #2. And two weeks away from a wedding in Tejas. And I'm still struggling with the same ol' habits I was struggling with before I set out on this big hair, small bod, mission. I thought...no, I was convinced...that once I declared my intentions to the universe via Blogsville...that the planets would align and I would be like Speed Racer, minus the chimp. But it's still me, with the same ol' thoughts I had yesterday. Ugh! If there were a genie in a bottle, I would wish to be transported out of myself just for 20 minutes. I need a break. From me.
I've started drinking again. Nothing hard...don't worry. I've started drinking milk. Skim milk. And tons of it. Half gallons of it in a day or two. It's my new comfort food. I'm a dairy rebel, I've discovered. It began in a little house on Maxwell Drive in Midland, Texas. When my grandmother decided I was drinking too much milk and was going to get f-a-t. Growing up, my family never warned me to stay off drugs or out of the liquor cabinet. And the sex talk that came when I was in 4th grade was so awkward and horrific that it sent me to therapy. No, it wasn't drinkin', drugs, sex or even rock-n-roll that I needed to stay away from. It was milk. Milk was the enemy, a serpent that lived in gallons in the fridge but was not meant to be consumed. Even in my 20's, when I would visit my grandmother, she would pass the dairy aisle and pick out the smallest carton of milk, knowing that I loved it but afraid, I suppose, that she would find me one night sitting on the floor in the kitchen with only the refrigerator light on, drinking it right out of the gallon.
You know what happens when someone tells you you can't have something? Two things. 1) You now desire it more than any other thing on the planet. As a little girl sitting on Santa's lap, I'm sure I asked more than once for the gift of dairy. You become obsessed with having whatever it is people tell you you cannot have. Or you become obsessed with proving people wrong. And 2) you never seem to internalize your choices...because you're making them for other people. I'm starting to realize that fear and shame are terrible motivators. I'm pretty sure Tony Robbins never told anyone to "drop that piece of pizza, loser."