Another day, another post

So day three and it is an early start. My daughter, an independent child, had a 6:30 start for work so off I toddled looking highly attractive in my pjs driving her down the road. What a truly stunning look that no supermodel could ever achieve even on her bad day.

I have to admit I'm struggling at the moment with the whole body image notion. You would think that at some point you could let the whole I have to look at certain way go but no it clings on consistently. The mirror is not my friend nor are the scales. So today I'm trying something different - I'm not getting on the scales till the end of my 100 days so that will be 97 days from now. I'm going to try liking myself and not eating for the sake of eating but rather eating for the need of eating.

I do like the notion of fueling oneself and that is what I need to do. I get so bamboozled about carbs, proteins, good fats, bad fats, eating before noon, no eating after midnight, and so it goes on. I just need to go this food is necessary and needed and eat it without shame or guilt and no, I don't need to binge or obsess. Eat the good stuff and not too much of the bad stuff - I think that is simple enough for me to understand.

I was so proud of myself only months ago as I got control of eating and exercise all in the same breath but I slipped again and now I'm struggling to get going. So today I'm getting going - this is me and I can only move forward.

I want to feel okay to walk out into the world and face each day. I'm tired of dreading stuff and avoiding stuff. Living is a good thing so I need to get out and enjoy it.

Thought I would remember something I had written a long while ago - it probably should remind me that life is definitely a moment that last only a moment so it's not worth wasting.

Room

Anne is a young woman in her late twenties. She is a very efficient person and likes to think she is in control of situations. Her family is very important to her. She has made some difficult choices lately.

James is in his mid-fifties. He is Anne’s dad. They have always had a good relationship. He is a comfortable person who gets on well with others. He is always ready for a joke or a good conversation.

The scene takes place in a hospital room. James, who has been suffering for about twelve months with a brain tumour, has been re-admitted to hospital and is not travelling very well. Anne feels like she should have some kind of serious conversation with her dad because she might never get to again.

JAMES is sitting in the hospital bed watching television when ANNE walks in.

ANNE:  ‘Morning, Dad.

JAMES: Ah, Miss Anne, I wondered where you got to this morning? How’s everything.

ANNE:  Good, I think. Traffic was foul though. Where’s Mum?

JAMES (flicking off the television): She’s gone into work for a bit. She can’t keep sitting here all

           day. Your mum’s a busy lady with me laid up here. Someone’s got to be running things.

He looks around the room impatiently looking like he would like to get out of the bed and leave.

           I wouldn’t mind leaving myself. I’m a bit sick of this place. Food is not bad though.

ANNE pulls over a chair and sits down beside her father. She looks unsure about what to say next. She plucks at the sheet near his hand.

ANNE:  Dad, you know how this isn’t going very well?

JAMES (almost amused): Mmmmm you mean the way the tumour’s growing back for a third

           time? Or the fact that I keep having seizures. He stops to think for a moment and grins at

          her.  And my tennis game is not going real well. I keep hitting the tennis ball the wrong

          way. Must have something to do with holding the racquet upside down all the time.

He starts to wave his hands around as though having an imaginary game on the bed. He nearly wipes out the drip machine as Anne watches, a bit annoyed at her father’s behaviour.

ANNE:  Well, it’s good to see you’re taking this seriously.

JAMES (looking closely at her): Anne, I always take dying seriously. I’m just not quite ready to

throw in the towel. I’m okay with the idea of going but I’m not agreeing with it.

ANNE:  I’m not okay with any of it.

JAMES: I know, sweetheart but sometimes life doesn’t give us a lot of choices.

ANNE:  I don’t want you to go. Why can’t someone fix this?

JAMES: Anne, we’ve tried all the options and unfortunately there aren’t any left this time. But I’m

           not gone yet. I’m here and I’m fighting right to the end. Might even get to fix that tennis

           game.

ANNE:  DAD!

James grabs at her hand and makes her look at him.

JAMES: So, Anne, what about you? How you doing?

ANNE:  I don’t want to talk about my stuff. It’s not important, not right now.

JAMES: That’s where you’re wrong. Everything is important, especially what you and your sister

are doing with your lives. I need to know that you guys are getting on with things. So what’s happening with uni and teaching?

ANNE gets up from the chair and goes over to the window and looks out for a moment. She takes a deep breath, collects herself and turns back to her dad.

ANNE:  I don’t know anything anymore, Dad. I liked teaching but now it seems a bit pointless. I

           don’t get why I’m doing it

She goes back to sit down again but looks uncomfortable as though tears are not far away.

            I wanted to be someone important, do something important but I’m just nothing. And 

then that seems ridiculous when you’re dying. Dad you’re not even going to be here to

see me be nothing.

JAMES: Well, it sounds like I’m really going to be missing out. I could, if you wanted me to, point

            out that you sound really silly. You’re being a bit of a sook.

ANNE looks at him for a moment and starts to cry gently. She tries to talk but just can’t get any words out. JAMES  watches her and takes her hand once more.

You’re a good teacher, even if you didn’t mean to be one. It’s what you need to do. So I expect when all this is settled, that’s where you will be, somewhere in a classroom giving students hell. Anne continues to cry, but is trying to get herself under control. Anne, I wish I could change this for your mother and you kids. I wish we could go back twelve months and that scan would have shown nothing. I’d be sitting on the boat with a fishing rod right now. But that’s not going to happen. All we can do is keep on going with each day we’ve got.

ANNE: I know, I know but I’m going to miss you. I love you so much, Dad. I don’t want this…

God, I don’t even know what I want to say to you. Hell, what’s even going to make a

difference?

She goes to get up again but JAMES stops her. He is starting to fade and leans back against the pillows.

JAMES: Anne you don’t have to say anything. I know. Honestly I do know and it will be okay.

Eventually. Later. It will all be okay. Now, go get a coffee and let me close my eyes for a minute, and then you can come back and tell me the latest about that grandson of mine and which assignment you’re avoiding this week. Anne tries to interrupt him but he stops her. Go, Anne, I’m fine.

ANNE gets up and goes to the doorway. She turns back to look at her dad but he has already closed his eyes. She watches for a moment closely monitoring his breathing before leaving the room.