Remember the last time I had a late night discussion with myself???
Well, tonight’s conversation was far sweeter.
Me: I’m so tired. I just want to sleep.
Me: I’m hungry
Me: suck it. I’m too tired.
Me: I’m gonna keep you up all night then! Feed me damn-it!
Me: no. Fat!
Me: do you really mean that?
Me: I’m not sure.
Me: I don’t know
Me: do you feel fat right now?
Me: do you feel anorexic right now?
Me: of course not. I’m perfect
Me: @@ liar. Where is MV? Is she telling you not to eat dinner?
Me: why won’t you feed me, then?
Me: habit? I’m stressed. I’m tired. I’m overwhelmed. I control what I can. I retreat to what’s comfortable.
Me: what’s comfortable in this moment? What are you controlling? How is this alleviating stress and improving your yoga?
Me: it’s not. I’m tired. I’m too tired.
Me: you already know, sleep comes easier with food. Come, let’s make dinner. Then have a good rest while your heavy, exhausted muscles replenish themselves, and your brain cells plump and multiply. We will be ready to save the world by sun up.
I dumped 2 jars (because it’s dinner, not a snack) of the tempeh in a pan with a little spaghetti sauce (I buy jar kind, but one that has no scary chemicals), and some daiya cheese.
I am kind of shocked and impressed that I didn’t just resort to polenta, with peanut butter being so sleepy.