get over it

Chicken tagine with greek green olives, israeli couscous and key limes.  Buttered smoked paprika pork chops with a dijon potato green bean salad.  Zucchini and feta fritters with a tapenade tomato salad.

As I obsess about my weight, I cook.  I pour my creativity into healthy delectable meals and erstwhile run, pound weights, pummel myself.  I shop for fresh herbs and garden my cucumbers while counting calories.

I long for red velvet, coca cola, meatloaf made with 8 0/20, mashed potatoes, gruyere, Fritoes, beer... I try on new clothes and preen in front of the mirror.  I get up, I run, I push, I lift.  I go to sleep and I dream of running... through pastry shops, through Timbuktu, through Nevis... I dream of wearing a swimsuit I wore three years ago.

I shuffle clothing... size 27 jeans to the back... size 6 to the forward.  My mother says I need to lose 15 pounds.  I stare at the mirror, only neck long, suck in my cheeks and jut my chin.  15 pounds.  15 pounds... a 3 month old baby, a kettle bell.  When did I ever have to lose 15 pounds?

I refuse to part with my clothing.  The St. John one armed side ruffled dress.  The Max Mara grey wool slacks.  The Tracey Reese dress I wore to our 1st Derby Party.  The gorgeous shirred red tankini.  

I buy shoes.  Lustrous leather.  4 inch heels.  Velvet.  Studded.  Stacked.  Platform.

I lament.

I read the papers.  1/5 of Pakistan is under water.  A mother smothered her children before driving the family car into a South Carolina river.  Another dead toddler was found in Arizona.

Jesus.

I am complaining because I eat too well?  Too much filet mignon?  Too many glasses of Pinot Noir?  Not enough plodding on the treadmill I pay $80 a month to use?

Relative.  Its all relative.

Right.

I need to get over myself.