Eat something, they say, having only hurried toast and hummus for lunch every day isn't good for you. Get more sleep. What the hell were you thinking, going to broomball on Sunday and running around falling down on the ice and yelling at the top of your lungs for two hours? At least you dressed warmly, the pants say, but now your throat is killing you and you hurt all over and how now are you going to tell what's from being sick and what's from being stupid?
The reason the pants are saying all of this is that I seem to be losing weight. Straight out of the dryer my snuggest jeans aren't as snug as I think they used to be, and I keep accidentally putting my belt buckle on the wrong hole. That's not good, normative femininity be damned. I'm a scrawny vegan with a fast metabolism who walks everywhere and needs calories to get up the hill to her house at the end of the day. I'd rather those calories didn't come out of my own body mass, but I'm finding it hard lately to keep myself decently fed.
I no longer have the long, languorous lunch breaks that last semester allowed me to tempt myself with beautiful stir-fries full of fresh vegetables and perfectly-seasoned tofu. I have time to run home from work for some toast and hummus, and I'm already in semi-trouble for not working enough hours to justify my salary. I could make my lunches the night before, but the self-perpetuating problem with that is that I've been too tired lately to face the prospect of cooking late at night in the exhausting mess that is my house's kitchen post-dinner. The fact that everything that I put in my mouth winds up hurting to swallow (shut up) makes the prospects of cooking and eating less than tempting anyway.
It's all part of why I'm starting to think longingly of the summer and living in a normal apartment again. If I'm not sharing my kitchen with 50 people's mess and chaos, maybe I can manage to do a little bit of cooking for myself. If I can't manage to cook, I can stock up on easy, ridiculous frozen things without feeling the need to pout about paying for house food that I'm not eating. I'll still pout about having a kitchen full of appealing meals I can't have, because I think my summer cohabitants are omnivores, but at least there are only two of them. Oh. Did I not mention I'm subletting that room I found on Craigslist, the furnished one in a nice little apartment a block and a half up my street? An actual block and a half this time. It'll be good. I'll have total freedom to chicken out of moving to Portland.
But that wasn't my point. My point was, if you see me, tell me to eat some vegetables, drink some tea, and get my ass back in bed. This viral bullshit has got to quit.Posted by dianna at March 14, 2007 12:05 PM