After a day of being in people's personal space, getting covered in bits of hair, my feet and back insisted that I sit my ass down for the rest of the night and do absolutely nothing. After I changed clothes, of course. I ate greasy fries, a bunless lobster roll and now I'm enjoying a little Jameson — all of which will likely aggravate my acid reflux, but at the moment, I just don't care.
I have no idea how I managed to avoid being sick all the time when I worked as a full-time hair stylist, because the days that I do these marathon hair visits with family and friends, I almost never stop long enough to eat anything. It's a battle between eating healthy and eating-right-the-fuck-now because my stomach has taken over my body to make sure it gets fed. The combination of bad food choices and speed at which I cram it all into my face makes for regretful scenarios that I repeat far more often than one would think possible.
On top of eating the wrong stuff, there's almost always the add-on complaint-maker of eating far too much. Moaning and groaning for over an hour about how bloated or full I am as though I didn't inflict the discomfort and agony on myself. Food is essentially a mine field for me more often than not. And my lack of willpower is like an adrenaline junkie addicted to pushing the envelope and seeing how far it can get before being blown to bits.
When I'm on track and eating good, there really aren't many issues or complaints. I'm sated, so there is not need to overindulge or make poor choices, and eating the right stuff in the right portions just feels better. Why I continue to put my body through the hell of eating too much or the wrong things is beyond me, sometimes I think I need to have an intervention with that Inner Brat of mine. It truly is all her fault. She likes to challenge everything and then sit back and watch as the horror unfolds.
At the moment, she is riding a wave of utter lack in self-control for all it's worth. Once she's had a taste of those decadent foods that could be used as some type of internal warfare, she is on a mission to see how much damage she can inflict before I reign her in and end the unnecessary and unwise indulgences. I think she went all out tonight because she knows I'm drawing a line in the sand and recommitting myself to better choices all around. Got to love the internal struggle of eating fun and feeling like shit vs. eating healthy and feeling incredible. Until tomorrow, keeping my fingers crossed this last hoorah of hers is a dud and I escape the fate of a burning esophagus this evening. Hey, got to stay positive, right?
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