Wednesday, April 15, 2015

The One Where Blake Gets Moody

It was on Day Three that I began to get rather bothered by other people’s presence no wait I would like to clarify it was the day that everything and everyone began to bother me. I feel like a hormonal teenager annoyed at the very questions directed towards me. “Where’s the bathroom?” one woman had asked me and though I had been courteous and pointed her in the right direction my crazy brain went “Ugh as if! Can’t you read?” as the day has progressed I find myself even annoyed with my presence.  It is as if I have way too many emotions mainly I feel like the sugar part of my brain has hijacked the control tower and is throwing a tantrum of epic proportions or like my sister after 4 ½ days at Disneyland. As my body moves from using its easy store of sugar for energy I’m making it work and it’s not liking it. I’m not liking it.

Yet I’m on day three. The day where most people throw in the towel drive on down to the ice cream parlor and say to the scooper why yes I want three scoops in a waffle cone and can you put a hustle on it?  So in preparation for this sort of event I hid my wallet from myself so that I would not even if I wanted to be able to go out and get fat I mean fast food. I've locked the door and told people that the best way to communicate with me would probably be by telegram or carrier pigeon. It took all my will power to be nice today.
So now I am sitting here on the couch with Friend reruns on in my comfort clothes, the snow falling out the window and my house smelling like smoke from the oh romantic bacon wrapped meatloaf I put in the oven that caught on fire. Note to self don’t’ jam a bunch of meat on top of other meat and not give the grease a place to go. So needless to say while the windows are open, the fans blowing and I bundled up in my down coat that is rated for arctic winter my surroundings finally meet my mood. In a few minutes I’m going to go to bed and hopefully wake up a much more pleasant and sparkly person. If not I might have to put myself on a penalty hold.

Day three.


Yeah. I said it.

The One Where Blake Just Wants to Lie Down

Day 2! Oh boy. LOOKS LIKE I MADE IT...oh sorry is this not the time for random song lyrics? To put it politely day 2 is the worst. Because the novelty is already worn off. It’s the second day of school after being out all summer, it’s the second child, and its well it’s just not that exciting to tell you the truth. All day yesterday I was dealing with the strongest desire to just punch a donkey. No I’m not proposing farm animal violence but if you have ever seen a donkey in action you know that they do what they want and they aren’t afraid to fight back.

What's really fun about this is I have to be my own cheerleader. No one is forcing me to do this. I could continue to get bigger and larger which is just perfect cause when you are the middle child and you take pictures the camera focuses right on you so really either way it's a win. Back to the internal cheer leading. It mainly goes like this Remember how it use to be when you could put on your belt and go in more than one notch? Remember those good old days?

So needless to say here's hoping for a better day 3.

Monday, April 13, 2015

The One Where Blake Does a Whole 30

I’m doing a whole30 again. I keep on asking myself how many whole 30’s it’s going to take for me to learn the lesson in which I feel is repeated. Yesterday in an act of pure mindless food driven thought I ate almost a whole bag of potato chips. It was at that moment that I had a bunch of potato chips in my mouth I realized I had relapsed into the crazy world of constantly eating looking no scratch that stuffing myself looking for some form of validation. In a weird way the food becomes the comforter, the giver of that instant flash of enjoyment. Yet when I look back at these few months of mindless eating and being out of control I cannot recall nor can I write in great deal the seemingly amazing food that I wanted. The problem is I've concluded is that the pint of ice cream is a liar. The mocha chiller doesn't’ make me a nice person, and the heaven forbid in the darkest moments that white glazed rainbow glazed doughnut isn't that amazing when you eat it every morning.

I’m not a fan of labels. In fact I detest them merely for the simple reason that they detract from seeing past the initial layer of what a person is. Yet I know you can’t escape them. They are a human’s way of knowing what is safe, who is allowed in the tribe and who might be a threat. The label I so hesitantly and so lamely take upon myself is that I’m a food addict. I use food in ways one might use alcohol, pills, or any other various modes in order to get an initial high.  The problem using food is that unlike the other forms of addiction it is needed in order to sustain you. Hi my name’s Blake and I have food/body issues is one way I plan on introducing myself to the various people I will meet when the youngest, the golden child, the glorified son gets married in less than 40 days. Which I must assure you is not why I am a food addict. No the reason is purely vain and no less neurotic.  I use food because it was there and for some reason my brain lights up like a freaking Christmas tree when I eat the sugar, the grain, and in a moment of quiet desperation the whole tub of cookie dough I had made to make cookies for a work function. To someone on the outside food addiction looks like someone who is out of control in fact it is quite the opposite. My goal? Is to constantly get more food. Mainly the sweet and dairy variety. So I could be sitting eating a let’s say amazing red velvet cake. While physically there shoving it in my mouth my mental state is already moving on to the next meal, the next desert. While one may in bed and think of the things they must do the next day or the great day they had my thoughts tend to the meals I’m going to consume.

Oh did I mention I’m impulsive? For the longest time I thought my last name was No. Because the way my parents seemed to mention me in sentences was this “Hi my name is Joye this is our daughter Emily and our Son Blake Blake NO!” I used to look at being impulsive as being a bad thing.  A thing of danger. Now I tend to see it as a way of learning, a way of interest. While I no longer jump off of things, touch everything, and get distracted by shiny things, it was the impulsiveness that lead me to some of the greatest adventures and people of my life. I would have never attended Utah State and met so many wonderful and dear friends, nor would I have never traveled to all the various places, and I certainly would not be writing this piece tonight if I had thought it out in every detail in my head. The only problem is as a food addict this has led to problems. Aka me at Betos at 3 in the morning eating a breakfast burrito and a blue raspberry Slurpee because it sounded good at the time. It wasn't.  From my journal “Dear Sweet Cheese what have I done to myself and I’m sorry oh so sorry please please make the punchy feeling stop.” However the time spent with friends doing it? Was totally worth it. So give and take.

What I’m trying to say is that this whole 30 experience is coming out of a need to be aware of what I am doing to myself. A need to survive past the age of 35. My worst, my absolute worst fear is that I will reach Discovery Channel fat. You know the type of fat that tends to lead you up to a Discovery Channel special where the come into a house and you see the crane lowering into the house and the good friend or girlfriend talking to the interviewer going “He wants to go to the movies!” and the fire department has the look on their face that says “Oh Hell no.” Then like Violet Beauregarde (the girl from Willy Wonka who turns into a blueberry) the fire men wheel him to a fat house and the person promptly loses all the weight and they make a skin quilt out of all the excess skin. As you can tell I've given this a little thought. (When I say a little? I mean a lot if you can’t tell).

So what is an obsessive impulsive food addict to do? Go on a strict plan of not eating sugar, legumes, dairy, grains, or alcohol (aka the only one that I consistently go I can do that one! Forever math impaired as I am I know that those aren't the greatest odds.)  Yet my body is telling me that it is ready. It is ready to eat good nutrient rich food. My pocket book is ready because the money I realized I spent more money out than bringing in. Lastly I realize that I need to add a creative element to these 30 days. Since the time I have is going to be limited due to work and trying not to cry when I waddle by the ice cream isle I’m going to blog about these thirty days instead of blowing up your Instagram feed with pictures and recipes. I’ll try to share the recipes I've made or found.

Lastly I write this piece to let you know that my therapist (like you are surprised) told me that in order to overcome a struggle the best way is to share it. Not all the details or write this as sense of NOTICE ME I’M A FLAWED INDIVIDUAL PRAISE ME! Instead to share with others to show that I’m vulnerable and that if you are in the same boat you aren't alone. So enjoy these 30 days with me. These postings may be long they may be short, they may be repetitive but hey at least I’ll try to make you laugh.