Sunday, March 06, 2011


Dear Fat,

In a fit of masochism today when I was out for my run, I chose to jog up that big hill and then all the way back to my apartment instead of walking like I normally do.  However, I may have surpassed my allotted number of calories when I decided to make some butternut squash soup to go with my homemade crème fraîche.

Last night, I slept from 9 to 9, and it was glorious.  I also moved my mattress pad to the carpet so I could wake up without my lower back hurting.  How did I get so old?

I was thinking the other day of how long it took me to get to the point where I could actually start to lose weight.  My main motivation had always been rather shallow: I didn't want to look fat anymore.  But somehow, that mindset alone never resulted in anything.  Or perhaps I found some comfort in that mediocrity.  Skinniness was something to be envied yet never attained.  Now, I can't say that body image isn't important to me because it always will be, but I do feel good about taking better care of myself.  Especially now when my life is going in a less-than-ideal direction, I can at least say to myself, "Well, at least I'm not as fat as I used to be."

I thought this entry was going to be more thoughtful when I started, but I don't have much more to say.  When I was watching the highly fictionalized Amadeus, I was formulating parallels with Salieri's appreciation of Mozart's genius and his loathing of his own mediocrity, but . . . I don't really have much farther to go than that.  I guess it's better that I don't make every FoF entry into a movie review.  You'll just have to wait until next time.  While we're on the subject of movies, though, I have a complaint.  I started a silent film today, and it was actually completely silent.  No score.  Wtf.  I started playing my regular iTunes music in the background, but obviously, those don't go together terribly well.  Maybe I'll keep Chopin on instead.



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