Dearest Rachel –
After telling you about how I ‘cheated’ to get under the two-fifteen line yesterday before I was to go and meet up with Lars yesterday, I didn’t have as much to talk with him about when we started to make our way around the mall. Oh, and by the way, I think he was mildly annoyed that the predicted rain didn’t happen while we were there, unlike last week. This time around, we’d both gotten on early in the morning – even before I’d made my way to the gym – and shortly after returning home, but nothing while we were actually there. Still, that’s the chance you take, and we’d been caught in the forest preserve when a drizzle kicked up before, and didn’t want to take that chance again to be miles away from shelter, so… yeah.
Normally, though, he and I catch up on the news of the world, and our different perspectives thereupon. And generally, he’s a little more circumspect about speaking his mind – especially when we walk in the mall, since we’re in public and who knows who might be listening, and disagreeing vehemently with either of our opinions? But this time around, he eventually caught on to the fact that I wasn’t as talkative as usual. Granted, some of this could be attributed to the fact that many of the events of the moment seem to require (at least, as far as I was concerned) holding back on one’s first instincts – the “fog of war,” and all that. And it’s not like he picked up on this right away, since he has so much to say about subjects both current and historical – his Eurocentric views on history mean that current events, and the attitudes that propel them, are informed by things that happened centuries, even millennia before; it’s “who does not learn from history shall be condemned to repeat it” writ large. So of course, there’s a lot for him to expound upon.
I don’t know how it came up – I certainly wouldn’t have brought it up without being prompted somehow – but maybe it was just a matter of admitting to having hit the gym at all in the morning, and the fact that it was starting to take a bit of a toll on my feet after some twenty-thousand steps since committing to the day. It was like that bit from Poe’s short story about the Tell-Tale Heart secreted under the floorboards; where, the longer the detective chatted up the narrator/murderer, the more the latter was convinced that the former could hear the thing beating beneath them both, and was merely toying with him to drive him insane (although let’s face it – you can’t drive someone to a place they already are). In any event, I had to own up to being a little sore-footed after a while, which lead to having to explain why… so yeah, my tell-tale feet gave me away.
For his part, Lars was more amused than bothered by this confession, commenting about how I’d “looked guilty about something” up until that point and now that I had “gotten this off [my] chest,” we could continue for a few more laps. Which, I suppose, was punishment enough, given that my feet were already tired enough to impel me to admit what I’d done.
Once we were finally done walking, though, Lars suggested a place for lunch that we hadn’t been to before (that is one nice thing about walking in a different area than we usually do; we’re in a different neighborhood, with different dining options, even though the place had a certain feel to it that was nostalgically familiar), and we enjoyed our time there. I was just happy to be off my feet, but I admit that the place would have been worth checking out back when we were still heading to church in Des Plaines. I don’t know if it would be worth the trip at this point, though, but the fact that we could check it out at the moment was pleasant enough.
And while Lars gave me a little bit of gentle teasing about reaching for a third slice of the bread loaf we’d been given while we were waiting for our entrees (I set it down without cutting off the slice; it was more a case of boredom eating at this point, I could admit), he didn’t seem to be pushing me all that hard about what I might or might not be doing with regard to my weight loss journey. Why, he didn’t even make a comment about my choice of meal, despite the fact that my baked rigatoni took me twice as long to finish as his (second, once he discovered his first was fried) selection – and that was as much due to the quantity as the sheer heat of the dish.
Although, if that rigatoni was the last thing I ate all day, I suppose he would have had nothing to complain about, in terms of my discipline. The thing is – and this is what he doesn’t know (At least, not explicitly) – is that as I drive away, my sweet tooth starts to act up. If I knew where to get one, and it wasn’t out of the way, I would have probably stopped at some bakery on my way home for a chocolate eclair.
But I didn’t even need to make such a stop; the house has plenty of chocolate throughout it, and most of that is my doing. I’m well stocked for desserts already, is what I’m saying. And I had a few when I got home, although I quit eating anything sometime between six and seven. I also conked out before nine last night, although that’s hardly on topic – Daniel actually startled me by walking in to the bedroom after Logan had called it a night, before realizing that no, dad wasn’t up to sitting up with him and watching videos – then again, the fact that I had walked so far, on two separate occasions that day, should have rendered that result inevitable.
Equally inevitable was the fact that I woke up at almost the same time as I did yesterday, with the same dilemma in front of me as to whether to go to the gym or not. I was shocked to realize that I was back up to where I was yesterday morning – plus an additional pound, even. But, on further reflection, I realized I had simply eaten my way back up to where I started, and then some. Call it the chocolate plateau; it’s my own fault that I can’t bring my weight down further and keep it there.
Worse yet, my feet were still sore from all that walking. Not nearly as bad as right after (nor as bad as that time the one got inflamed), but they hadn’t recovered fully yet. Unlike yesterday, I was in no mood, mentally or physically, to head out. Moreover, I was expecting a phone call regarding some stuff that I would otherwise do at the ‘office,’ but as the call was to come at 8:30, I felt I would be better off taking it at home. Which means I haven’t been to the gym at all today, although I’ve come to the ‘office’ wearing my shorts and T-shirt so as to head out early and work out before Daniel and I head back to the folks’ for dinner tonight. Yeah, I definitely want to get my weight down to a reasonable level before stuffing myself with whatever Mom is preparing for us. It isn’t exactly an ideal situation, but it will have to do.
And with that, I think I need to get on with my work for the time being; Otherwise, I might not be able to get out of here in time to get in a decent workout, wash up, get dressed and all that, While still having some time to hang out with Daniel before dinner. So keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck; I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 