the self helpers and their books

So she takes a little bit of the air I breath. So what? I cough and spew out unintelligible responses to her questions and I come up for air and she has it. So what?

Today she had a self help book she thought i would like. when i say "like" i mean "need." I always thought of self help books as literature one bought for themselves, not for others. But, there I was reading the back of the self help book- skim reading over diet, complex carbs and other words full of not-so-subtle hints.

...and she took my breath away. Not in the romantic sense- just in the "i feel like I'm about to cry. My eyes are stinging. I need to take a deep breath...." but there is none- so I just keep on talking.

I say something about how i would love to read the book and how I'm sure it'll be oh so helpful. When really I know everything about all the diets I break. When I eat a particular carb or protein I can even dictate which diet bible I'm crossing. I'm that good.

So I'm balancing my baby on my stomach and thinking about my girth. That's what we are all talking about anyway. I'm disgusting her and to be truthful- I make myself sick too. But, there's nothing like a self help book to make you attack yourself.

When she left and i could breath normally again- i wolfed down two salmon patties that tasted like canned salmon and breadcrumbs fried in fish oil. I didn't like the taste. So, to help it go down smoothly, i opened the fridge and found some flat coke from November to wash it down with. It wasn't cold enough to mask the fact that it was flat but it did the trick.

Then I gathered up my 3 kids (all better dressed then me) and managed to scrap what was left of my pride off the floor. In the elevator I looked at myself in the mirror. I mean, really looked. I was fat, but instead of noticing how under my excess skins was a beautiful face- i only saw my tired eyes.

I'm tired of my daily routine. Waking up too early on too little sleep. Not drinking coffee anymore. (remind me to restart that habit). I'm tired of people treating me the way the world treats overweight people. I'm tired of people assuming I'm pregnant. I'm tired of trying so hard to diet. I'm tired of failing.

I feel like if I unraveled myself I would find the garbage I ate six years ago stuffed in some forgotten place. I feel like everything I have ever binged on is still inside me. I'm tired of having a great enough memory to remember what food I ate and why. I'm so bloody tired.

In the elevator I can no longer see her judging me. Wanting more for me. Hating me just a little. Admit it! I only see whats left of me. Tired eyes and a bloated body.

I'm sitting here now and my day is behind me. Clocked in as another Day One. Once again, I ate so well all day long only to binge on everybody Else's supper and a box of cookies from my childhood. Crescent shaped cookies I used to scrap the chocolate off. Now, who has time for innocence or separation. I just swallowed them two at a time.

The house is quiet. I have put the girls to bed and the hubby is out. I find myself chugging diet coke and Tylenol. A fabulous nighttime pastime of mine. I think the sweetest thing about me is that I believe tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow will be the day I succeed. promises, promises.

I know one thing for certain- I am not the type of girl you give self help books to. Not when I was skinny, never when I am fat, and most certainly not when I think I am on a diet.