Trader Joe's Organic
Olive Oil Popcorn
Olive Oil Popcorn
Mindless Eating is getting the best of me. I am smart, intelligent, bright. Conscious. I love exercise. I have a strong work ethic. I've spent most of my life in one driven situation or another. Corporate America, education, media, the kitchen, art. Type A personality.
Maybe it's what I don't have that's driven me to raw cashews, popcorn, ice cream, peanut butter . . . or all in a single binge. When I'm not doing what I think I should be doing, the food makes me numb and able to cope with idleness, I think. Maybe I don't know how to relax, maybe that's the problem. Maybe I feel I should always be busy. I haven't learned The Importance of Scheduling Nothing. Downtime has had no place in my beautifully, well-ordered life without kids, without friends, well, that's not true. I do have friends, but not friends I would bother in a life-threatening pinch (does that make them acquaintances?). I don't really like pinches and have spent all these years preparing myself not to have any. I'm sure that's not the way it goes when one believes in a Universe that decides to give you whatever it thinks you need.
Is there any pinch that can be controlled, other than paying the rent? the bills? I mean, certainly not health. If I'm going to walk out the door and get hit by a car or fall prey to a vicious, ravenous, cell-eating cancer there's nothing I can do about that-- Right? Who should I call, bother, enlist to sit by my bed? Am I not good enough? Low self-esteem? Yes, I would sit by someone's bed, many beds. Might not cough-up any money, but I'd buy them things, show them all sorts of fascinating objects; and, work my fingers to the quick, heart to the last valve, and soul to the death to give them what they needed to survive.
It all depends on attitude, right? Determined intent, praying boldly as Joel Osteen would preach or Xerox-Positive as in deny everything in favor of a positive charge on a cloned piece of Sunshine. Well, I do all that and I'm good at it!
I'm so positive that when I sit down in front of Blue Bloods, Scandal or The Blacklist, I positively eat all that Breyers Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Chocolate ice cream. I temper it in the microwave. Yes, the microwave is as bad for me as the ice cream is . . . I don't know which is worse, but don't tell anyone. The ice cream drips on my t-shirt as I savor tiny spoonfuls. I do everything . . . tiny. I crush Raw cashews one at a time, chew the one until mastication takes place, then swallow the sweetness before I engage in the next.
Peanut butter is like a quiet good lover. Anything could happen. I might find a cookie, not a chocolate chip one because, now, chocolate gives me heartburn (but not raw organic cacao powder (maybe I should make my own)), especially at night. Doesn't have to be really late night. I just have to be somewhere near the blue couch, which has turned to beige with a new throw from the goddaughter, and huge pillows. So, it's probably a peanut butter cookie, but they never have enough peanut butter in them, so I add more, the creamy kind. Of course, this is Organic Peanut butter. I am much aware of the inconsistencies in my way of life. I learned the difference between natural and organic a long time ago and I do what I can do when I can do it. Sometimes I think what a waste of money since I hate myself for this mindless eating.
Sometimes I envision what a beautiful body I'd have if I captured this monster and strangled him. It's probably a her, a him wouldn't be so thoughtful, wouldn't give such attention to this type of detail. Either way, whether it's a he or a she, it feels like death. Any suggestions to help cure me of Mindless eating syndrome? I'm open and it's serious!
Maybe it's what I don't have that's driven me to raw cashews, popcorn, ice cream, peanut butter . . . or all in a single binge. When I'm not doing what I think I should be doing, the food makes me numb and able to cope with idleness, I think. Maybe I don't know how to relax, maybe that's the problem. Maybe I feel I should always be busy. I haven't learned The Importance of Scheduling Nothing. Downtime has had no place in my beautifully, well-ordered life without kids, without friends, well, that's not true. I do have friends, but not friends I would bother in a life-threatening pinch (does that make them acquaintances?). I don't really like pinches and have spent all these years preparing myself not to have any. I'm sure that's not the way it goes when one believes in a Universe that decides to give you whatever it thinks you need.
Is there any pinch that can be controlled, other than paying the rent? the bills? I mean, certainly not health. If I'm going to walk out the door and get hit by a car or fall prey to a vicious, ravenous, cell-eating cancer there's nothing I can do about that-- Right? Who should I call, bother, enlist to sit by my bed? Am I not good enough? Low self-esteem? Yes, I would sit by someone's bed, many beds. Might not cough-up any money, but I'd buy them things, show them all sorts of fascinating objects; and, work my fingers to the quick, heart to the last valve, and soul to the death to give them what they needed to survive.
It all depends on attitude, right? Determined intent, praying boldly as Joel Osteen would preach or Xerox-Positive as in deny everything in favor of a positive charge on a cloned piece of Sunshine. Well, I do all that and I'm good at it!
I'm so positive that when I sit down in front of Blue Bloods, Scandal or The Blacklist, I positively eat all that Breyers Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Chocolate ice cream. I temper it in the microwave. Yes, the microwave is as bad for me as the ice cream is . . . I don't know which is worse, but don't tell anyone. The ice cream drips on my t-shirt as I savor tiny spoonfuls. I do everything . . . tiny. I crush Raw cashews one at a time, chew the one until mastication takes place, then swallow the sweetness before I engage in the next.
Peanut butter is like a quiet good lover. Anything could happen. I might find a cookie, not a chocolate chip one because, now, chocolate gives me heartburn (but not raw organic cacao powder (maybe I should make my own)), especially at night. Doesn't have to be really late night. I just have to be somewhere near the blue couch, which has turned to beige with a new throw from the goddaughter, and huge pillows. So, it's probably a peanut butter cookie, but they never have enough peanut butter in them, so I add more, the creamy kind. Of course, this is Organic Peanut butter. I am much aware of the inconsistencies in my way of life. I learned the difference between natural and organic a long time ago and I do what I can do when I can do it. Sometimes I think what a waste of money since I hate myself for this mindless eating.
Sometimes I envision what a beautiful body I'd have if I captured this monster and strangled him. It's probably a her, a him wouldn't be so thoughtful, wouldn't give such attention to this type of detail. Either way, whether it's a he or a she, it feels like death. Any suggestions to help cure me of Mindless eating syndrome? I'm open and it's serious!