Focus on life. Not on yet another photo of bloat. Where the kelp did I go? Underneath. I slapped on some padding and armoured up for war; the war being the daily grind of a fat housewife. It's harder when you're large. To clarify, large and out of shape. Just getting up is hard. Forget stairs... while carrying a 11 1/2 month old... and having an almost 4 year old and a needing beagle meandering about your shins.
It's physically strenuous and then I am trying to get up the gumption to go to the gym. Or out for a walk. And I fail.
It's not about the food. The food is a symptom of the fact that I have never in my entire life accepted loss. I made it so that it wasn't lost, because I would get it back either in this life or the afterlife or the next life. All that mental juggling to avoid the great big pit of sadness. Bereft is not an emotion I allowed myself to feel. But now I must. Because these things, these people, that time of my life, those dogs, are all gone. And they are not coming back.
Pass the Key Lime Pie!!!
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