I feel something creative stirring within me. It could be the remnants of last night’s leg of lamb and blueberry cottage cheese-night-cap, but I’m hoping not. I want to get dirty. I want to make a mess and see what comes out of it. Being able to feel this is most likely the result of beginning to get back on track. Oh, did I mention, I’ve been a little lost and couldn’t find the track?
The last time I wrote I was telling on myself about spending. I had faced the fact that I was out of control and just saying so out loud sent me right to Nordstrom, the catalogs, and the Internet in a frantic state of wanting to “stock up” in case I should never shop again. Some of you related and some of you were outraged. I was embarrassed.
Over the past couple of months I have reeled myself in, or as I like to say, “pushed it in” and guess what. I stopped shopping and started overeating! Yep! I pushed it in here and it poked out there. IT never goes away. The voice, the higher self, the "me" that wants to be heard, I tried to kill it with something outside of me. So after a full eleven months of not eating sugar (and thirty six and a half years of not drinking,) I took a little detour into Ready Whip. Uh, huh, I had some friends over for dinner a week ago and served lovely fresh berries for desert. There were six of us so I bought five quarts of berries and four large cans of Ready Whip, just to be on the safe side. (Here is a tip; this is how to prepare for a binge!)
When I was dishing up the berries and cream, I decided to read the label as to the sugar content. To my surprise and delight, there is less that one gram of sugar per serving!! Yippee!! That was on Saturday. By Tuesday I had single handedly dished up, served myself and consumed all five quarts of berries and three of the four, large cans of whipped cream. Then I read the label again, curious as I had become, about exactly what they consider to be a serving. Shocker! Two tablespoons! There are eighty servings per can! Oops! I threw away the one remaining can of unopened Ready Whip and braced myself for three long days of sugar withdrawal. Next? Pirate’s Booty!
I think of Pirate’s Booty as the health food of junk food. Innocent little air puffs made of corn and dusted with cheese. There are one hundred sixty calories in a single serving bag. That is hardly anything, unless you eat four bags! Push it in here and it pokes out there. I am running out of distractions.
My husband suggested exercise as a new distraction/ addiction. Waaaaah! I told him he could either have a fat wife and lots of money or a skinny, well-dressed wife and no money at all. “Are those my only choices?” My daughter suggested crafts. I cannot believe it has come to this! Crafts?
A week ago Tom made an appointment with me to show me the financial analysis he had done concerning the last ten years of our fifteen years marriage. I put it off as long as possible and finally agreed to a meeting from 7:30 to 8:30 Monday morning. I got up at 6:00 to prepare myself spiritually. I lit candles at the table and came with an open mind, prepared to face the facts for the first time.
He was very proud of the two, colored grafts he had made that illustrated our income as compared to our spending. It was pretty, like a patriotic rainbow. Next he showed me many, many pages of numbers in little boxes illustrating each month for ten years broken down in categories of monies spent. The first five or six years were impressive. There I could see the wheelbarrows full of gifts, the dry cleaning extravaganza, including bed linens and napkins and, the housekeeping and gardening that took place while I was out shopping. .
I am happy to report; things have improved over the past three or four years. All of our/my spending is down. The things that still needed tweaking have been tweaked. We have a spending plan. Part of that plan includes my not roaming Nordstrom for inspiration. I am pretty sure they will miss me.
In the meantime I am exploring hobbies. That’s right; Holly Hobby and I are becoming tight. Last night Tom was working and I was bored. I wanted to break out the Pirate’s Booty; I was already full of blueberries and cottage cheese. Then I remembered the little red basket my daughter had so brilliantly stocked and readied for me as preparation for times such as these. I brought it to my place on the sofa where I was engrossed in The Real Housewives and proceeded to spend the next two hours needle felting. Don’t ask. All I can tell you is that the pirate’s booty is still in the bag and I have a lovely doo dad.
My life is so glamorous! It’s just not fair, lucky for me!!
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