To Blog, or Not To Blog?

I'm kind of horrified that it's been almost two months since my writing came to a screeching halt. I don't really remember what made me stop, other than feeling generally overwhelmed and not wanting to drag the pitiful, dessicated corpse of my personal life out into the glaring light of teh intarwebs. While I'm not any more inclined to share a lot of what's happened, I'm ready to get back on the blog-wagon.

So! Let's get started.

My weight has been fluctuating between 204 and 208. I can't seem to get below 204, but honestly I haven't been working too hard on it until this week. I started running again -- pitifully slow, but running nonetheless. I also took a yoga class for the first time in a bajillion years, and it was beyond amazing. I'm stronger than I think, and more coordinated. And I'm in love with anything that makes me feel that way.

On the food front, I decided that it's time to go back to a meat-free diet. I was a vegetarian years ago, thanks mostly to the influence of my old roommate (who I lovingly refer to as Captain Straightedge), but gave it up. I wasn't really doing it for the best reasons, and at 23 years old, I was too damn lazy to be a healthy vegetarian. You can't live on macaroni and meatless "chik'n" patties and expect to be healthy. So why go back to it now? Well, I started thinking about the healthiest people I know (mentally, physically, emotionally) and it occurred to me that the majority of them eat little to no animal products. No matter how you slice it, meat is bad for you. It's also bad for the planet, and for the animals from whom it's derived. You can argue with me if you want, but I'm not changing my mind. And I don't expect you to change yours -- your body is your body, feed it whatever you choose.

I was at the grocery store today getting a salad for lunch, and I felt a pang of sadness when I walked past the sushi case. "No sushi for ME," I thought, wah wahhhhh, pitiful pitiful. And then it dawned on me: I was letting myself be sad over a spicy tuna roll. A little fish-filled log of rice, wrapped in seaweed. Food was making me sad. FOOD!

It's just food. It's fuel for your cells. It's not love, it's not an escape, it doesn't fix anything.

IT'S JUST FOOD.

(This may seem like common sense to you, dear reader, but this is a thought that is as foreign to me as responsible journalism is to Glenn Beck.)

That one simple thought makes me feel so free, so hopeful, so ready to tackle any challenge. If I can end a 20 year dysfunctional relationship with food, I can do anything.

Oh, and speaking of things I can do? Check THIS out:



That right there? That's Crow Pose. AND I DID IT. No, the picture is not of me, and I didn't do it nearly as perfectly as this nice young lady, but I did it. I balanced my body weight on my arms, I got my feet off the ground. And it felt so, so, SO good to have physical proof of what I've been scared to believe for so long: I am strong, I can do anything, and the only real obstacles in my life are the ones I create myself, in my head.

That's the mantra. That's the code. That's how I'm getting from here to there.