I am just not feeling all that chatty. Nothing really wrong, or anything. I am fighting with my eating, again. *sigh* Nothing outrageous but I am not happy with myself. I feel so stupid. I know better and how to do better. But I make the wrong choices. It is almost as if I want to fail? It feels weird and wrong. And I am working through it.
I think I need to get rid of my soy sauce. I use light soy, less sodium but it still makes me swell up like a poisoned dog. And if it is in my house, I am going to use it. Time to kiss it goodbye. I had to take a whole Lasix, this morning, for the puffiness. Not good. I am slamming water and have my feet up... Ugh!
It is warm, today. Sunny and clear as a bell and just lovely. It is supposed to hit 73 for a high, this afternoon. Love it! I am just hoping this isn't a Spring tease. I have a nasty feeling that Old Man Winter isn't quite finished with us. We usually get some noce weather, start thinking the worst is over, then it gets cold again. And sometimes we get a nice, late snow dumped on us for good measure, too.
I am reading a good deal about food addiction, lately. No doubt it exists. I am a food addict. And I am struggling with that, lately. But I can't sit here and blame the addiction for my choices. Ultimately, I am responsible for those choices. Addiction or not. An alcoholic chooses to take a drink. A drug addict chooses to shoot up. I chose to stand in front of my pantry cabinet and eat some cheese puffs, yesterday. No one held a gun to my head. I chose it. I have to take responsibility for that choice, addiction or not. A large part of recovering from an addiction is taking responsibility for choices made. Knowing that yes, we have an addiction but we still make the decision to indulge in the drug, drink or food of choice.
I am so sick of my bullshit. Seriously. Some days I want to slap the shit out of myself. I would happily slap the shit out of someone else behaving as I do. I would gladly slap them a royal one, shout "Wake the fuck up!" and remind them that this is their life they are fighting for, here. So, I have to willing to slap the shit out of myself, shout to myself to "Wake the fuck up!" and remind myself that this is my life I am fighting for, here. I need my gallbladder out. I need to get the pressure of extreme weight off my trashed hips and knees. I desperately need to get the pressure of extreme weigh off my poor hips and knees. I need to get this done. And I don't need to be indulging in food fuckery and slowing my progress and harming myself, making my hips and knees live in this over sized body any longer than they have to.
I have a job to do. Time to dummy up and deal.
My hips hurt so bad yesterday that I finally put in a call to my doc to get her okay on using NSAIDS and Lasix together. She gave me the go ahead and I now have sweet relief from the pain. Even my hamburger knees feel a little better. I might actually feel good enough to get out and take a walk, later. I have been hobbling around for almost a week, it feels good to be able to move freely, again.
Okay, I need to go toss Sabryna's beddies cover in the dryer and hit the head. I am peeing like a racehorse.