The Carvery Rejection

Went for a carvery lunch with Ma and d, to celebrate Ma's birthday yesterday.

Had a fairly big plate of roasted lunch, and then decided to go back for seconds.
Thankfully, there was quite a queue to get to the carvery, and during the shuffling, overheated journey there, the plateful settled in my stomach.
"What the hell am I doing?" I asked myself. "I'm just lining up for plate two because plate two is right there, available to me..."

I got out of the line and went back to the table.

I'm not sure what that says about me - or indeed if you can extrapolate anything from it. Taking something just because it's available sounds like the behaviour not of an addict but, for example, of a philanderer or a banker, but on the other hand, what is "seizing the day" if not taking whatever is there, available to you?

Bottom line, I'm not a philanderer, or a banker, and I'm sick to death of feeling like a goddamned addict. The spirit, if you'll excuse the airy-fairy expression, of this Disappearing business is not being defined by the urge to eat. Not being everything that people assume comes with being a fat fuck. Time to put down the plate again, people. Agreed with Ma to begin the walking again on Tuesday morning. From walking, to biking, to gymming, we begin again, semi-deaf or not.

Tomorrow's a weird one. Off to the health centre in the morning for diabetic retinopathy screening...which means I won't be able to see for a while. Whiiiiich is just peachy. My left ear will be my main sensory organ for a while tomorrow...Maybe I should walk sideways, left lobe to the world...