1/3/2004 08:49:08 PM|||Amy|||God, I am depressed. I shouldn't be so bottomed out like this. I have too much to do. The kids toys have to be picked up, the carpet has to be cleaned, the kitchen is okay but it too needs some spot cleaning. And then God save me from my selfishness, there is the care and feeding of my parents. Not second to wanting to look physically attractive, having more energy, being better able to control my moods, and a whole bunch of other reasons for needing to lose weight, there is the fact of my mother and the cautionary tale she consistently presents. We have tons and tons of tasty left overs which I could heat up for dinner (if I could just tear myself away from my kids and this computer for half an hour), but I know she won't eat them. The only way I can satisfy her is by cooking every night for at least two hours to prepare food according to her menu, and then I had better not screw it up. If there's too much salt, she won't eat it. Not enough salt, same outcome. If I haven't used real butter in the mashed potatos (made with cream), then I might as well throw them out. She is a slave to her impulses and desires, but unlike Dorian Gray she doesn't have a portrait to carry her excesses for her.

She is going to die, perhaps soon. She can't breathe. She can't walk. She can barely move. She yells and she screams at my father. She is frustrated, angry and depressed but she did this to herself. She has probably never had any awareness of what emotional eating can do and if she did, then she ignored it.




|||107318454857174980|||Crash Landing on the Sugar Plains