the life of zooey who happens to be Bipolar 2
About a week and a half ago, Stan and I decided to begin the task of changing our diets. We eat way too much junk. We are not healthy. We needed to do something to reverse the sugar shacks we have become.
It takes a shit ton of planning and money to eat healthy. On top of all the preparation of foods to take place of ‘convenience eating’ is the actual act of eating healthy. I know from all the years of dieting, the first few days SUCK ASS. And, they did. But by the end of the week, we were ok. We could see the difference in how we felt and were willing to keep it up.
This week started better, thankfully. We had our shit together and did more prep work Sunday. We are trying new things to stay away from refined sugar and processed frozen/boxed foods. This may actually work. I’ve dieted alone unsuccessfully, but with Stan as an accountable partner in crime, there is hope.
Yet the siren song of fake sugar calls from my desk at work. A leftover container of sugarless Juicy Fruit gum stares at me with the word ‘Sweet’ atop its plastic container. Juicy Fruit (and Fruit Stripe) gum are the stuff of my childhood. Fruity sugary goodness. These share memories with Slow Pokes, Sugar Babies and Pixy Stix. It triggers flashbacks to summers spent in still-damp swim suits, sun burns and constantly drying hair. Yes, I often chew/eat/consume my childhood memories, sadly.
It’s hard to throw away the 9 pieces of gum left in that container. So, I secretly snort the sweet scent of childhood …wishing for days when arguing bedtime seemed to most important thing in the world.