Enraged

Friends—I don’t even know what got into me these last few days, but the rage with which I stuffed—no, really stuffed, not a metaphor—my face with potato chips on Sunday night, and on Saturday night must have come from an abyss of something very, very bad.

We were playing two absolutely wonderful (if I say so myself) parties. The first was the Halloween party at our resort (ha!) complex down on the Jersey Shore and I was a fiddlin’ witch, of course. The second was a fabulous Bar Mitzvah up at a beautiful shul in White Plains, NY, where I was a klezmer violinist and party girl.

(You know the old Jewish joke—from one God you can’t make a living…)

Anyway, since I go to a lot of parties and there is a lot of party food at these things, sometimes I win, and sometimes I lose. Of course losing means gaining, ha ha again.

The rage of which I speak carried over until about two hours ago, and it’s already Tuesday. I have been withdrawn and bloated, frustrated and phlegmatic.

I think the week of “trying to be better” eating-wise has given me at best a sense of hopelessness and at worst a sense of entitlement.

I lost my sense of control and I had that fat ugly feeling of oh just give up. I took my eyes off the prize. Which is that damned red dress from Lucky that I want to wear at some damned point in my damned near future.

Sorry to be so sorrowful, and worse, tedious, but this is very very hard for me.
I have such a wonderful life (poopoopoo) in all respects and maybe it’s greedy to also want to be thin (my Diet Center lady used to say “What, so you think if you lose weight and look great you’ll get cancer or something?” And she was not Jewish!) but I know that it’s important to me—and yet I’m not doing it! What is my problem???

BUT BUT BUT. Two hours ago my little Johnny Xylo and I were out on a moonlit balcony overlooking the Myrtle Beach, South Carolina ocean. We are here for a few days because Sruli found this ridiculously fabulous deal on a ridiculously fabulous resort and, well, here we are.

I was playing my banjo uke and he asked for “bucket” so, I obliged “There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza…” and when it was finished, he threw up his little hands and shouted “YAY!” and I just melted all over the floor.

Plus, Sruli said I looked thinner and gave me a squeeze.

So, life is wonderful again, I realize I was being an idiot, and I have a little more koyakh.
What a ride, eh?