Hungry

Something happens when I start running again. The first week is agony, the second gets a lot easier and by the third week? I’m running before bed and getting up early to squeeze in a half hour before I have to get the day started.

Obsessed? Sure.

However, I could spend a good half hour discussing the magic of ice cream and talking to me about pasta could turn you on because I have pornographic feelings for carbohydrates. I had half a peanut butter and raspberry jelly sandwich for lunch yesterday and my Songbird laughed.

S- That is the saddest lunch I’ve ever seen.

Honestly? It’s so fucking delicious that I have to close my eyes to chew it. Peanut butter is contraband. Bread is off limits. Jelly is a complete waste of calories.

But MY GOD. I can still fantasize that sandwich back into my mouth. It was worth it. I’ve been eating kale and swiss chard for months. By some stroke of good luck, a deer got stuck INSIDE my garden fence last week and annihilated every last leaf. The blessed sandwich was a result of that & nerves over my date tonight.

I bagged up another size to take to the thrift store and zipped into my very favorite jeans. Aaaahhhh. There are huge rewards to starvation and pain. These jeans are worth a year of kale. The sight of my ass in these pants is more satisfying than food and I know from previous experience that the beautiful man I’m seeing is an ass man. I added two new squats this week and it feels like I got stung by a bee when I sit down. That means it’s working, right?

Reaching for my coffee feels like an aerobic move and I can feel my entire muscular structure when I type. To say I’m sore is quite the understatement. I’m a tightly wound bundle of nervous tension and my mind is wandering in places it shouldn’t. I sent Mr. Incredicock a picture, thanked him for putting my fingers back on the keys and fucking me so well I have the confidence to go on this date. Then deleted him out of my phone for my own good because I crave him in the worst way. Great sex is a mixed blessing when you can’t have it whenever you want, and fucking him is like experimenting with heroin.

Even the thought of him gets me back on the damn elliptical machine. Contrary to popular belief, you can actually run from your problems. It does amazing things for your ass.

I’m mid run when Mr. Grey calls. I can’t talk so he’s telling me about his day and the cases he’s litigating in court tomorrow. I’m trying not to pant and he stops mid sentence.

G- Where are my manners? Hello Miss. How’s your day?

J- Great!

G- I can’t wait to see you.

Off the elliptical. Breathless, sweaty and a little sick to my stomach with nerves.

G- Bring your appetite. They’re known for steak and I know you’re hungry.

Someone should warn him just how right he is.

Candace, Queen of the magical granola.

You GUYS.

You’re all so nice and I get the sweetest emails. ♥ I try to keep up on correspondence but I kind of suck at it. The nicest lady asked if she could send me a present and it came on the hardest of days. I was mystified opening it because I haven’t done any shopping in ages.

I have to preface this by saying that I am a HUGE granola snob. I make my own because I don’t like anybody else’s as much….

and Candace’s granola kicks my granola’s boring ass.

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Beyond that, Candace saved my whole heart on the saddest of days when I lost someone incredibly special to me. I accidentally deleted the Facebook page for this blog, so I can’t thank her directly. I hope she sees this, because WOW. You all need some.

You can get some too, at http://www.colleycreek.com

Candace,

I love you, sweet friend. This was an unbelievable surprise and my  heart is full of gratitude for your generosity ♥ Thank you, thank you, thank you!

xoxo J