What I've Been Doing/Confession Monday

It's odd to be posting after such a long time. Been busy with preparing for a street festival here in Sarasota. Actually it was the Reading Festival marching , an annual event which brings in around 50,000 fine folks to hear the likes of Gene Wilder, Lou Dobbs (complete with his very own protesters against his migrant worker opinions), Barbara Taylor Bradford and others. It was a fabulous day, as someone said, football weather, clear and crisp with sun as bright as a lemon. Great fun - I was hoarse this morning, so you know what I did a lot of.

I apologize for not filling you in on my exploits, but frankly, I was just too busy or tired to blog. Out of sight, out of mind. I didn't even read anyone else's blog, so I wasn't reminded that I wasn't doing what I had committed to. And that leads me to the resurrection of confession Monday, at least for this Monday. Somehow I feel the need to purge myself. Most of my issues are around discipline and commitment, and today's confession is no different. I have sort of fallen off the raw food wagon, but my foot's caught in the springs and I'm being dragged, but not uncomfortably, along until I'm strong enough to pull my foot free and climb back on.

I've needed comfort food, you know, good healthy things like waffles, chips and french fries. And yes, the tummy is coming back, thank you. Going all raw then switching to less than raw is a great way to wake up to how the sugary, salty or fried carbs can pack it on. When I seriously began a raw diet back in May I lost about 17 pounds as well as my tummy. My hips, a genetic gift, are still here, but are a trifle less Rubenesque.

Not only has my shape reverted, I find I'm more anxious. Granted it was stressful getting things ready, but gees, life is stress. If every time a little upset in my schedule happens and I get stressed and seek out comfort foods, I'm never going to get anywhere. It's as if the food accentuates the anxiety. I'm not eating any flesh (read cow, chicken) but still I feel unusually uptight, hence the lust for the fries. It appears I'm going to have to research this. Have any of you a thought about the interaction of food and emotions, other than the play of aphrodisiacs and influence of eating a lot of meat making one more aggressive? Any help would be appreciated....