Fuck, 2020 felt like a dumpster fire to a lot of people in the world, and that means me too!
Note: please excuse me if it feels like I’m rambling. It’s late and I’m typing this on a keyboard I’m not really used to so it takes longer to get my thoughts out with extra editing.
I’m just so disappointed in myself. I know it’s late as of the time of this writing, but I think that might just point towards something I feel is true. I know what I need to do, but overcoming that split second instinct to run towards the comfortable is obviously hard to ignore.
Just now, I thought it might be a good idea to go to Whataburger just to get some unsweet tea, since they’re the only place open late with anything close to fresh tea. But I know I’ll be tempted to order something else in that drive thru line. It’s too easy and I’m looking for any excuse.
In 2019, my wife bought me a coat on a random trip to the mall. It’s a very nice peacoat that cost her a lot of money, but she knew how much I missed my old one and she figured I deserved it for whatever reason. I really like it and I got a lot of compliments on how good I looked when I wore it out and about, especially with people I had not seen in a year or two.
It finally got cold enough this past month to warrant wearing a coat outside more. I got up a 6am to get ready to volunteer at church, when I realized it would be an excellent day to wear the pea coat. I was devastated when it didn’t fit. I almost wore it to prove to myself it was possible. I could have stretched it out and done up the buttons, but I knew deep down in that instant, that I was lying to myself and it wasn’t worth it. I reached over a few hangers and grabbed the biggest coat I owned, which is also much to insulated for indoor wearing, and zipped it up. I distinctly remember my hand passing over the 4 other jackets in my closet and settling on this one. It’s much to big, but it’s comfortable and it hides my imperfections. It hides the overeating I’ve done for months.
But it can’t really hide me from myself…
So tonight, I’m writing something. Maybe it’s more empty promises. I’m not sure. I’ve saved a few of my favorite salad restaurants in a Google map, hopeful that I’ll turn to them in my next moment of weakness, but I’m not sure I’ve convinced myself yet.
I think I’ve barely convinced myself this blog is worth posting.