If you've read this blog at all, you may have picked up that I often tend to worry about small things when I'm really worried about big things. Tomorrow is my surgery, but I really wasn't anxious about it today...instead I gnawed on my fear of the fasting you have to do the day of surgery. Yes, I hate any kind of fasting, including hunger when a dinner host makes you wait hours before you can sink your teeth into anything filling...the sort of thing most people don't mind (or at least appear not to mind) at all. My dear friend G.R. used to skip lunch regularly to maintain his weight; I viewed him as a kind of alien species. I can't remember the last time I voluntarily skipped lunch or any other meal. It's not in my repertoire.
I suppose this comes from deep, dark neurotic roots...lack of nurturing, self-comforting instead of maternal warmth and so on. But who cares? I'm not overweight, and I like to eat. Period. It's all about pleasure, people, and avoiding pain. I'm a Utilitarian.
So when I learned that I have to be at the hospital by 7 a.m. I was overjoyed rather than annoyed that I have to get up at the crack of the alarm clock at 5 am or so. This afternoon I happily made a cornbread-topped chicken pot pie from scratch to eat for the next few days. And I strongly feel that since I won't be eating till the afternoon tomorrow, I should not put limits on the amount of chocolate I eat tonight. There's got to be some fun in all this.
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