Have you noticed that? The post-New Year’s drought of words of wisdom from this quarter? It’s not that I’m not diligently typing away in the back rooms of this blog, it’s just that I’ve only been able to produce vitriolic attacks on everything from cotton candy unicorns to fiscal cliffs because, honestly, I’ve been extremely angry at everything for the last two weeks. So much uncontrollable rage, but why?
I’m simply hungry. Really hungry, all the time. Wake up hungry, go to bed hungry, with very little respite from hunger in between. Hungry in the bread basket of America, where I’m constantly reminded of how available Jalapeno Turkey Burgers are at Carl’s Jr., or that there are donuts in the break room every goddamn day. (Shut UP, Steve, I know there are donuts here! I sense maple glaze like it’s a disturbance in the force!) This is the kind of hunger that makes me believe I know EXACTLY what it must have been like in a Soviet prison camp.
YES, we’ve established I’m an asshole, YES this is all my own fault so I can’t complain or tell Steve to stop telling me about the donuts during these hunger games. Readers: I knowingly and willingly committed to a 30 day cleanse. Forgive me my sins.
Sure, I COULD claim I’m doing this for the hippie-dippy benefits: Health! Oozing out toxins! If you could only flip me inside out and see how clean my internal organs are! Lies, mostly. Anyone who has ever hung out with me over a weekend knows I have only contempt for my organs and treat them like garbage. When one removes eating form their daily routine, one finds a lot of time on their hands to think about their motivations. And here’s the terrible truth: I’ve got a black, gooey, throbbing tumor of female body issues and I HATE IT. But I’m getting skinny as hell and I fucking LOVE THAT.
Whatever holes in me were previously occupied by toxins are now filled with shame. How could this have happened? How could I have worked so hard and projected such a badass exterior of not giving a shit about girly crap like ass size and STILL fall victim to just wanting to be thin?! How?! Why?! Because of course it’s only a projection and patriarchy is internalized etc etc unrealistic standards of female beauty blah blah blah. So here I am thinner, yet feeling ever so hypocritical (and yearning so strongly for a donut it’s creepy). Food lust aside, is there anything worse than having to face your own abject normalness? Me and the rest of the world, we all have the same broken parts. .
But will staring at this conundrum stop me from finishing the next two weeks of this cleanse?
Because, you know, all the health benefits.