Heavy In Hell

It’s amazing how quickly my body loses and gains weight. I’ve never been above 130 and once was a shocking 99 pounds. The latter was gross and disturbing. My thighs didn’t even touch in the middle. How sick is that? That’s before I kicked the heroin. The likelihood of weighing 99 pounds again is, thankfully, very slim (ha ha).

However, tipping the scales at 130 is gross and disturbing in its own fashion. I can’t look at myself in the mirror nude anymore without loathing myself completely. I see all the little puckers of cellulite and the sagging skin and the age and I want to cry and barf at the same time, while holding a gun barrel in my mouth. Dramatic, eh?

Right now, my friends who read this are thinking something like, “Whatever Neko! You are so not fat!!” It’s true. I’m not obese or even “chubby” really. It’s just that I’m not used to looking this way and I know I could change it if I just got off my expanding ass. But, I’m lazy. And, I can think of a million excuses. So what do I do? I just don’t eat for a couple of days. Real healthy, right?

But, not eating for 2 days, loses me 5 pounds just like that. The jeans that were almost too tight to breathe in a couple of days ago are having trouble grabbing my hips today. Just two days of absolutely no food intake kill the pounds like a flesh eating virus. It also makes me dizzy and shaky. Yes, I know starvation and anorexia are not the keys to healthy weight loss. I know smoking a cigarette whenever I get the munchies will not do me a whole lot of good. Chemo would really help me drop the weight, wouldn’t it?

The thing is, I can’t seem to keep an interest in myself long enough to commit to a steady standard of living that improves my health. On the good days, I aspire to cut out the donuts and snack on the celery. On the bad days, I just don’t give a fhuk and stay in bed all day. It’s a good thing I don’t pig out when I’m depressed. I do just the opposite.

I normally walk instead of taking the bus whenever possible. I almost always take the stairs throughout my day at work. I don’t eat meat or much in the way of sweets. So, there are a couple of miniscule things I do for my health. Actually, I do these things more out of impatience than anything else. I have nightmares about being trapped in elevators. Gyms cost money.

What I need is to get on a healthy regimen. I need to get back into yoga. I need to exercise regularly and eat more fresh veggies. I need to get my own place so that I feel the freedom to work out. Join a gym? They’re really expensive. I look like a dork and I’m embarrassed to be athletic in front of other people. Mostly, it’s because I don’t know what I’m doing. What’s an “oblique”? or a “tricep”? How do I know how many reps of what to do and how often? Hire a personal trainer? Ha! There’s the money thing again. And I can’t stand the type of person who spends enough time in the gym to be a “personal trainer”.

The most health conscious person I know is Shenry. I think I’d be able to work out in front of him without being totally beside myself with embarrassment. But, he’s on his Olympic weight lifting trip right now. He and I would be at completely different levels as far as fitness are concerned. There’s a scheduling issue as well.

So, for now it’s a diet of stress and nicotine. When I get an apartment, I’ll try to improve things. I’ll just have to be bloated and depressed until then. And yes, I would like some cheese with my whine.