Battelfield

The voice in my head is super dramatic and written words are so limp and passive. Text lays down and waits to be picked up by your eyes, transfered into your brain where you must imagine the sound I intended to convey.

I think that is why emoticons became so popular, and why lol, and rofl were invented to convey a wink, and a smile.

This is why I sometimes spell please "Puhleeze". It means "I'm begging". The voice in my head dictates to my thumbs (I'm posting this blog from my phone) drama and with great difficulty these opposable appendages try to convey the deep emotion they hear

For the past few days my brain and thumbs have been trying to collaborate just how to translate the whiny, pitiful, baleful scream that I desire to share. The only solution they could come up was a bit more cerebral. Here goes:

Imagine a 40ish lady, sitting in a red chair, body straight, but leaning forward about 45 degrees. Her neck leans backwards and head faces the sky, her lips are stained brown, and her breath is too sweet and unnaturally minty. There is an opened empty box of Harry and David peppermint truffles on the floor to the right. Their white and red empty wrappers lay around her lap and chair scattered like shrapnel in downtown Baghdad. There has been a war, and she is beaten.

Her arms hang neandrathal-like on either side of the armrests and look elongated and noodle-like in their helpless surrender. A noise which arises to pierce the air is unintelligible. At first the words are too high and streched out too far for an ear to know where one word ends and the next begins...it sounds like this...

"WhhhhhyyyyyydooooeeessssfoooooooooodddddtaaaaassssstttttttteeeeeeSOOOOOGOOOOOOOOD????"

A question that haunts me in my sleep. It seperates me from the "healthy and lovin it" crowd. It makes me sing "food is a battlefield..." and while that music plays in my head (the synthesizers steady beat acommpanies my thumbs on this phone) my mind plays a montage of me running hand in hand with a peanut butter cup, sliding down a slide with a box of malt balls and being pushed on a swing by a chocolate easter bunny (with one ear lightly nibbled)

I am the girl who had "forget love I'd rather fall into chocolate" stickers on her PeeChee in high school.

This has been a difficult break up for me, and during this time of confinement me and naughty food had a few dangerous liasons.

I am left feeling flabby and guilty. A quote starts up a powerpoint presentation in my mind each word following the other in pathetic succession.
"of all sad words
of tounge and pen
These are the saddest
'It might have been". (For the life of me I can't remember who said it and it is a big pain to reference it with my thumbs)

The point is, I lost a battle - yes I admit it's me. I have a red (burgundy, not hooker red in case you are painting a picture in your head) chair in my bedroom and the truffles were given to me by a little boy I babysit.

I must shove off the despair from my thickening thighs. I must remember that the war isn't over until my pale stiff THIN corpse is shoveled underground. I am still boss and like a phoenix I will rise again. I can start tomorrow new and perfect.

If I give up now and surrender to my basic instinct to be swaddled in excess foods' loving, fun and comfortable embrace I will be awful sad and I will have to buy new clothes, and this blog becomes a LIE, strangers will point and mock, and my children will live as orphans because I perished early from an unhealthy lifestye...etc. (I am getting carried away by emotion, but what a ride...)

So instead I quote Nephi...

"Yea why should I give way to temptations...
Awake my soul...Do not slaken my strength because of mine afflictions..
O Lord wilt thou make a way for mine escape before mine enemies! Wilt thou make me that I may shake at the appearance of sin?
O Lord...I will trust in thee forever...I know that God will give liberally to him that asketh. Yea, my God will give me if I ask not amiss." (Exerpts from the psalm of Nephi, 2Nephi 4)