Oh, carbs, I know thee well...

I was feeling frustrated today and I reacted in a very assertive fashion - I ate something. Not just anything, what I craved was a slice of Starbucks pumpkin loaf. The very thought of that soft, chewy, nutmeg and allspice flavored bread makes my heart go pitter patter. There's nothing batter - oh, hell, better (it doesn't sound quite so rhymey though) during the fall and winter months. Before all you "oh, you're just emotional eating and that's never good" elitists start twittering at me, duh, I get it. Having been fat - there I said it - not heavy, not chubby, not zaftig (what?! we ran out of descriptions and switched to another language to mask the word, FAT?) not big-boned, just plain old, ordinary, run of the mill, FAT. Big deal. HA!!

In the past, my weight did bother me. That was before, when I thought I had a remote chance of dating or having an active social life. I'm not saying I want to be like that guy who had to be driven by a tractor, in his bed, through town to get to the doctor; I simply, of late, don't care. There's no vanity, no ego involved, just don't care. I will later, like I always do and will lose the weight. In fact, I'm almost there. For health reasons, I do need to stay in manageable weight range. Oh, can we go back for a sec? Driven through town by a tractor? Hell, you know I'd pretend it was a parade and wave at my minions. No throwing roses, either. Donuts, preferably glazed buttermilk. Or muffins, probably apple spice. See? It's in the details...

Anyfatty, I know that the weight has piled on because of the wheelchair. For the first few months I was home, I needed to gain weight, my blood iron was low and I had little energy. Unfortunately, I've never been a half-way there kind of gal. I ate with gusto, putting all my emotional angst into my food. Inevitably, the pounds crept upwards. Put that together with my inability to exercise the first two years because of open wounds, and well, it makes for some poundage. Hopefully, in the next few months, my exercise level will increase. I'll have access to a therapy pool where I will be able to walk/swim for an hour a day. I'll be weightless in the water. I can't weight - wait - to walk without a walker. Sigh. It's been almost three years since I've had that freedom. I miss it terribly. Sometimes it hurts so bad that I can't walk, I'm overcome with grief. What relieves grief the best? Carbs. Lots of carbs.

I know, I know. I recognize my problem, only it's not that easy. I'm still coming to grips with my situation in many ways and when I feel overwhelmed, I want to eat. I've mentioned before that eating didn't work, that shopping was my panacea. Well, eating won out. It's cheaper and I have more access to carbs. No more. I made a promise to myself that this behavior would stop. No more irrational eating. After today, that is...