Sunday, December 18, 2011

Day 4: Still Juicing and dreaming about candy bars,

I have a special affection for candy bars.  Not only do they taste good but they remind me of my dad. My dad and I were never close. Men in the 50s didn't take on that role.  And my dad had a few personal demons of his own to battle, just like I do. But I know he loved me.  Every night, while working at the factory, my father would buy me a candy bar from the vending machine.  We were a poor family yet he managed to come up with the quarter to do so. He'd spend part of his break picking out the candy bar.  It was usually a Chuckles.  Every morning, when I'd awake I'd get to  check his lunch box for my treat. Or sometimes, late at night after I knew he'd fallen asleep, I'd sneak into our kitchen to find my gift.

My father did that act completely out of kindness and love.  I am the one who has mutated a candy bar into something other than it's original intention.  Now when I see one, my mind drifts off into ruminations of diets, counting calories, and guilt. I remember the days when I ate 4 or 5 candy bars.  I remember the shame of realizing I was overweight and then the 2 or 3 decades of denial.

What I'd like to get back to -- when I see a Chuckle or a Snickers or whatever - - is to be reminded how much my  father loved me.  The only way I can do that, is by clearing my mind and trying to accept myself.  Loving myself seems almost too much to hope for.  But loving others is something I can do.I can't seem to help myself, but that's no excuse for not helping you.

I started this fast on December 15th, my father's birthday.  I should have had a candy bar the night before in tribute.

Day # 4:  Going well, bored as hell. Food is my HBO.

Quote for the day stolen off the internet:  "I love you with all my butt, I would say heart, but my butt is bigger."

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