Must I Always Feed My Pain?

I've had a kind of rough weekend that hasn't gotten any better this sunny Monday. At every turn, I felt like I got socked in the gut until I lay on the ground in the fetal position. Not literally, but . . . you know.

So what did I do?

I ate a McDonald's Big Mac meal. Totally. Every single fry. Every single bite of burger.

And then I had a piece of apple pie with ice cream.

And you know what? I don't even feel done. If Skinny Man wasn't sitting right beside me, I'd be eating more.

So why do I feel like I need to feed my pain?

Some people care for emotional pain with exercise. Crazy amounts of exercise.

I once knew a woman who suffered from OCD to such an extreme she couldn't sleep if her house wasn't thoroughly cleaned. As in toothbrush-to-the-grout kind of clean. Her need for perfection extended to herself too--she exercised until her menstruation was interrupted, until she was losing weight at an alarming rate.

I guess a lot of us have issues, right? I used to look at my friend--perfect house, perfect body, perfect wardrobe--and think she was . . . well, perfect. Until I got to know her and learned that her perfection was her greatest shame. It was an illness, not perfection. Her perfection hurt.

You can't look at other people and know what pain their outward appearance may hide. People may look at me and wonder why I've let myself get so chubby, when if only I exercise, I'd look so cute.

Right. If only.

But I can't add my lack of will power to my really bad day. I'm burdened enough as it is. So for tonight, I'm going to feed my pain and not beat myself up for it.

Wanna Know What I Ate today? (and let my kids eat?)

I had toast with margarine and peanut butter and hot chocolate for breakfast.

We all had waffles and syrup with milk for lunch, or rather, linner since it was like four o'clock in the afternoon.

We had cookies and pop for dinner. Yep, you read that right ... cookies and pop.

It was just that kind of day. A day that screamed for comfort food and Mommy. Except, my cupboards were bare and my Mommy has long since left this world so ... I gave myself what counted as comfort food, and took the day off of mommy-hood myself. Although, I think I scored some major mommy-points with my kids, lol.

My food feelings today were TIRED, and, not sure how to say it ... ESCAPIST? Is that even a word? You know what I mean, right? I wanted to take the day off of life, to run away, just for the day.

BUT I did get my four glasses in AND I think I'll start wtih some new goals tomorrow.