Slipping

Which came first, the chicken or the egg? The eternal question, right? I've been wondering about it the past few days, mostly (as usual) as it pertains to my life. How does one recover from a barrage of backsliding when one does not understand where it all came from or why?

I know the what. First, there was the food binge. I've told you before that I've lost weight in the last year - over 70 pounds, to be exact. I was less than 10 away from my goal. Now I'm more like 13. And, worse, every square inch of my body wants to either puke, fold like a pair of deuces, or, in the case of my eyes, wobble and ache and spin my brain every time I stare at a computer screen. Was it the ice cream, the cookies, the pita chips ... the Goldfish ... the bread? Or did a bug hit me beforehand? The nausea, the lack of clarity, the dizziness ... when did it start? Toxic food, intestinal bacterium, maybe new glasses ... or did I just give up?

Second, I had an interesting shopping week. I thought I'd found my first piece of platinum (marked "950") in the form of a modern, rather ugly and plain ring, for $7.99 at my local Salvation Army store. But it was probably just a better form of silver (lacking the requisite "plat" stamp). Then, two days later, I spent $15 because I didn't understand what "HGE" meant (heavy gold electroplate) - and while the jury's still out on another ring I bought (not marked but set with good stones) I suspect I've been indulging in the I-don't-love-it-but-it's-worth-the-experiment thing that I swore I'd never do again. (Oh, and I spent $400 on groceries and impulse Costco stuff - argh!) Why are my defenses down?

Third, I said I'd catch up this weekend but I didn't. I didn't clean last month's finds, nor did I call all of my clients - three are still outstanding. And while I could be doing it now, truth is I took my daughter to the airport at five this morning, then Princess to her preschool (20 miles away), and I'm pooped. I have two tutorials in about ... 5 minutes ago, too. Once I'm done, I'll start calling. I hope. I can't be sure - I've broken so many vows to myself lately that I woke at 2am the other night calling myself a "stupid cow" and kicking myself into a migraine. I haven't done that in decades.

Wow. That's it, isn't it? It really doesn't matter whether the toxic gluttony came first or the intestinal bacterium. I screwed up, and then I let it snowball and spread like a virus into my entire life. Truth is, whatever started it, I need to finish it. Now. It's time to admit the slip, the sin, the slide, the avalanche and instead of asking "what kind of idiot am I?" I should ask "how will I fix it?" That's all any of us can do. Because whether the chicken came from the protean primordial soup and launched itself into Frank Perdue's dream fortune, or the egg appeared by the grace of a benevolent diety and made breakfast the most important meal of the day, it doesn't matter. Life is what it is, no matter the order, warts and all.

And I have too good a future in mind to miss it because I'm glaring at the past.