Food!

Ate my face off today.  Don't know why it happens exactly... the eating my face off, I mean.  Today it might have been the combination of lack of sleep, grumpiness and general frustration with my overtired two year old who is outgrowing his naps, but is a monster when he doesn't have one.  Or, it could have been the way the wind was blowing, which planet was in alignment with my ka and which way my hair was curling today.  Who knows?  The point is, I couldn't stop eating, which led me to feeling bloated and fat and unattractive when I looked in the mirror.  Which made me want to eat more, so that I could console myself about my body.  Sigh....

The one good thing about post-partum depression... - I can't believe I just wrote that.  OK, so there really isn't a single good thing about post-partum depression.  Let me re-phrase that.  The only thing that I didn't hate about myself (too much), when I was depressed, was my body.  Other than my saggy, post-pregnancy/c section belly, I looked pretty good.  I lost a lot of weight.  Fifteen or eighteen pounds, I think, and for me that's a lot.  Of course, I lost it because I was too depressed to eat.  I had no appetite to speak of.  When the kids weren't with me, I would get to the end of the week and think, "What the hell do I have in the fridge for the kids to eat?  When was the last time I opened the damn fridge, anyway?"  Having the kids every second week forced me to sit at the table and nibble at food and try to find something remotely interesting and inviting about eating.

And it's a good thing I have really abundant, thick hair because the lack of nutrition was making my hair fall out like crazy.  I knew it wasn't healthy. I knew I needed to eat.  I knew I was on the thin side because I couldn't find any clothes my size.  Everything was too big.  But, I wasn't hungry.  I wasn't interested.

Now I'm feeling better.  I'm not depressed anymore; just hungry... or bored.  I know I should work out.  I know I should be eating healthier, but again, I don't care.  Only this time, it's not that I don't want to eat, it's that I want to eat too much.  Too much junk, too often.  I don't want to be depressed.  Really I don't.  I do want that nice body back though... That one men would look at when I walked down the street. Maybe if the wind blew the right way, the planets aligned with my ka and my hair curled up instead of down, I might feel like losing weight.  Then again, if all those things happened in just the right way maybe I would just like what I saw in the mirror and not cared if I lost weight.