Freedom vs Pressure

This morning I made an announcement to a couple of friends. “I have given myself permission to stop writing.” My boyfriend told me he would support me, if that’s what I really wanted. My friend Julio told me I was full of shit.

But that’s not what I want, and not what I meant. Of course I’m going to keep writing. I just gave myself permission to stop. Meaning, I don’t have to write (or sell) another book right now. I don’t have to do anything I don’t feel like doing. If I want to paint or sing karaoke for a while instead of writing, I will. If I want to lie in bed and watch TV, I’ll do that, too.

Really, I’ll probably start a new book soon. But I like doing so without the pressure. And so, I let myself off the hook.

Summertime: Living Is Easy, Grooming Is More Complex

It’s getting to be funny now, how exactly like clockwork it is that the sun’s heat can change my mind about certain style choices. Before the heat, I can’t wear beads or sandals or self-tanner, and I can’t even really think about highlighting my hair.

But it’s been getting hotter lately. Hot enough for sandals (and therefore pedicures). Hot enough for jewelry I thought was tacky a month ago. (For some reason, metal is for winter and beads are for summer, in my mind.) Hot enough to do my first batch of self tanner, when mere weeks ago I was saying that I’d never do that crap again.

Not yet hot enough for highlights, though. Today I still feel like last year’s blond highlights were a mistake–a little tacky–and that I’ll never do them again. However, I’m prepared to change my mind by the end of May. Really, it’s funny how some things look different in the heat of the sun. I guess the heat just makes me crazy.

Pretty Boys (and a Pretty Girl)

My friend Ashley tells me I have a thing for pretty men. All the actors I find attractive, she says, could just as easily be girls. I don’t know why, though. I never noticed til she said.

Last night I dreamed I was dating a very beautiful man, with green eyes and black hair. Meanwhile, an overweight, sad man (with brown eyes) was upset with me because he loved me but I refused to love him back. I tried to explain to him that it’s wrong to get pissed off at people, just ’cause they won’t love you.

Meanwhile, my pretty boyfriend wasn’t very polite, and wasn’t very considerate. After I got done talking to the sad man (and my lecture didn’t work), I chased my boyfriend through an indoor lake of dark green water. As we dried, I scolded him, saying that he was spoiled. I said I didn’t want to date him anymore, because being beautiful had made him a rotten person. And yet, while I said this, I never let him go.

Pretend I’m not talking about my weight.

I stopped trying to do Atkins, because it no longer works for me. In fact, I gained even more weight last month, even though I dieted very diligently.

So now I’m doing it old-school style. I did the math and the science, and now I’m counting calories. I am eating 1600 calories or less per day. (That’s how many I need in order to lose weight at a healthy level. Science.) I always thought I’d hate doing that sort of thing, but actually I’m finding that I like the math. It’s kind of fun, adding up my meals in my mind before I eat them. And I like that it has an underlying formula: [your weight] X [a variable relating to your activity level] – [500 for one pound a week] or [1000 for two pounds a week]. Also, it’s kind of fun to eat carbs again. I admit it.

I’m not telling you this so that weight-obsessed people can come out of the woodwork and give me unsolicited, pitying, patronizing advice. I’m telling you this so that, if it works, you’ll know. And also, because I like the math. Really, I’m just telling you that math is fun.

Seriously, though? If I don’t lose any weight after a month of this, I’ll start freaking out a little. This is the longest I’ve gone without being able to lose weight relatively easily. I know–I’m getting older, and that’s what happens when you get older. But still. The new resistance of my fat is unsettling. I don’t mind getting old; I just don’t want my body to fall apart in the process. Ha.

Okay. That’s all. Next time, I’ll tell y’all something interesting.

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Posted in domestic, dreams, writing on 05/16/2007 07:07 pm

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