I finished PCP on April 14 and started KFB on May 15. At the time I signed up for this project, 30 whole Patrick-free days seemed like one too may, but in retrospect I realize I wish I'd had more time to strike my own balance, to develop a sustainable eating and fitness plan before embarking on yet another regimen designed by someone else. My first bought of KFB sign-up regret was evidenced by yesterday's intense sense of deprivation.
P.S. You think this qualifies as a Zen Pie?
Anyway, my indulgent life's-unfair-why-can't-I-eat-whatever moment was triggered last night when I passed a pizza parlor and realized that I couldn't for the life of me recall the last time I'd consumed a cheesy slice. Anyone out there know the answer to this? 2009?? I think I was at Pizza a Bessa in Asa Sul, Brasilia, where you eat til your buttons pop off...not a good moment for me.
Suddenly, the lack of pizza in my life was cause for alarm. And then, I was concerned that I wasn't really that concerned about leading a pizza-free existence. Still I was plagued with the sensation that I was missing something. Internally, I got all whiny. Clearly, this despondency had nothing to do with food; rather, it stemmed from my tenuous connection (or lack thereof) with someone I'd just hung out with, someone I once cared deeply about. Yeah yeah yeah. Food and intimacy. I've hear they're related.
Here's the dealio. That old friend and I had just spent like four hours talking about the past, which was fun, but not so much. Sometimes you don't want to delve so far back and relive complicated memories, especially when the facts regarding what really happened are debatable (but who's counting?).
He drank relentlessly, I sipped on water. He kept urging me to have some wine, to have a piece of chocolate. He tapped my hipbones and joked, OUCH! Damn, those are like daggers!
I was irritated. Stop trying to feed me, fool! And yes, my body is becoming a weapon! I wanted to say (so dramatic, forgive me). Instead, I disengaged. I was tired and wanted to go home and meditate. I convinced myself that my non-consumption was making him uneasy. Maybe he wanted to drug me with stimulants so that I'd think him funny and sweet, when in actuality, at least last night, he was neither. These racing thoughts led me to believe that perhaps it is I who am nervous with the awareness this project is bringing me. Sometimes, clarity is shocking. And scary.
After excusing myself, I strolled through a trendy Brooklyn neighborhood and tried not to stare too much at the beautiful World Cup revelers, but I couldn't help it. Stuck in a moment of outside looking in, I was suddenly envious of the sexy folks stirring gin and tonics in their summer finest. And forgetful about what I'm trying to gain on KFB.
On the way home I asked myself these questions (and hope to blog about them as the answers reveal themselves): What do I want? What do I really really want out of life? And how is KFB going to help me get there?
My body responded with agitation as well, with my knee pain intensifying so much that it woke me up later that night (it has since migrated from behind the right knee to wrapping the entire kneecap - even yesterday's half forward bend was impossible).
Thinking about things this morning, I figured out that I'm annoyed at having to give up certain indulgences on principle.
While I haven't experienced any seriously intense cravings for my normal go-to "treats" (hello fro-yo, where for art thou), I just wish I could indulge on my own. Without being ordered to; without having to "process" the whole experience. If food is just food, then why do we have to think about it all the darn time?
My goal this week (P.S. the non-internet thing has been AMAZING, both for my mood and creativity. I use Freedom to cut myself off) is to do as Emily said earlier: to have the cookie if I must (or in this case, the wine!), and not obsess about consequences and how to "fix" or overcompensate for indulging.
If I slip and sip, I won't die; nor will I necessarily feel better, I'll just have gotten a taste of something that alters my mood, numbs me a bit, and makes me groggy.