Fresh melon

A two mile run and fresh melon for breakfast, a near perfect bandaid for the self loathing of yesterday's engorgement. And I'm not just talking about the 5 cookies. There were at least three earlier with my Grandpa, plus the doughnuts (can't forget all those). Oh my gosh, the doughnuts... one after another, till whoosh! I was slipping down that old familiar slide where each swallow becomes something more, something elusive, something wonderful, just out of reach, something almost there, something way better than whatever it is I keep stuffing into my face. And I swallowed until my belly ache pulled me to my feet, still hallow, full only of disgust, disgust for my being, my body, my self-fulfilling prophecy. And just to be sure, last night, I stuffed five more highly processed 'treats' down my empty throat. Ugg.

So the running and the melon, just enough to stanch the bleeding really, to heave me back on track till next time. Unless I can figure it out first, break this familiar chain, so thoroughly passed down through generations, so wonderfully absent during 12 months of treatment. I really thought the slippy slide was gone. Nope. Ah well.

Must balance this trick
just a little bit longer
more conscious must go
till my will she gets stronger
the elusive the wonderful
all real to me now
food so inspiring
not mindlessly chowed
it's a gift it's a joy
to savor and taste
just stay off the slide
far away from the waste
And teach this new lesson
to the bean fresh and new
we feel how we eat
each day it is true.