Darkoshi

The poor barking dog outside in this cold weather. I hear it through the stove vent even when I'm in the kitchen. Last night, this morning, this evening. I wish its people would let it inside.

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There was a pigeon standing on my porch when I came home Monday evening. It was still there when I went to bed, but was gone the next morning.

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I was thinking about how my eating patterns are now. It is a healthy eating pattern. I eat when I am hungry, or when I feel like eating, or when it is time to eat. As I eat, my appetite slowly diminishes until I no longer have a desire to eat more of what I'm eating, and then I stop eating. Or if I still feel like eating something else, then I eat something else. Or I eat what I put on my plate, and then stop, because I am full enough. But generally, the more full I am, the less desire I have to eat anything else.

This contrasts with how things were during a different part of my life. Then, I often ate so much that I felt physically awful from being so full, as well as mentally awful from knowing that I was making myself fat, yet I still had an urge to eat more. I'm not sure if it was that I still had an appetite, or whether it was something else driving the urge to eat, or both. But either way, the normal "I am full - so I will stop eating" brain/body mechanism was not working right.

there's something slightly disturbing
about being so pleased
at being able to feel and see my own ribcage.

skin, muscle, bones.
strength.
a purity...
something very like what dylan was writing.
except that i'm pleased with where i am,
and don't think that becoming less would be even more pleasing.

i don't want to weigh less.
there's no need.
if i can see my bones now,
weighing even less would surely be a bad thing.

although i felt the same pleased with my body
when i did weigh ten pounds less.
a fact which makes my current pleased-ness seem suspect.
surely there's something vaguely disturbing
at being able to see the outline of one's bones?
and at being so pleased by it?

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i might think i was still somewhat anorexic.
but anorexia, to me, isn't based on how much or how little one weighs,
but on mental obsession.

i don't have an obsession with food and calories anymore,
so i'm not anorexic.
certain thoughts and perceptions of mine,
haven't really changed, though.
i would hate to gain any weight.
being fat is one of the worst things i can imagine for myself.
i wouldn't be able to really like myself if i were fat.
and looking in the mirror, sometimes i look too fat,
but never too thin.

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so, here i am now,
a few pounds on the low side
of my rather-consistent weight for the last ten years.
and it feels so good being able to feel my ribs.

maybe having started jogging last year
has had this subtle effect on my body.
maybe it's made me leaner, more muscle, less fat.

i notice myself feeling good and attractive
when i go a bit below 105,
and fat and ugly when i go a bit above.

but is something still a bit screwed in my self-perception?
if i saw someone else's ribcage, would i think they looked good?
if i felt someone else's ribcage, would i think they were healthy and strong?