Losing My Senses

I've been a little out of control.

I think I have been eating everything in sight. My friend Kristin says that this isn't really a problem since I only seem to eat every 3 days--but if that were really true, then how do I explain these extra 10 pounds that I carry like a hula girl's skirt? Huh?

I am back to wanting sensual experience in the ways I used to have them, but if I can't bite and ingest what I want, I'm over-compensating in other ways. I'm wearing silks and vibrant hot pinks, I'm showing lots of skin. I've started eating meat again. (Very small portions--and in meatball textured forms--but still.) I consider it my right to eat one pizza, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for braces wearers. I want richness and gooeyness and drippy, saucy, tongue tingling delights.

People Magazine recently interviewed Bonnie Blodgett about her book, Remembering Smell. It chronicles the nine month time period where she lost her sense of smell. She said that the loss of her olfactory sense made her "lose weight because you don't want to eat, then gain it because you want the satisfaction that food gives you. But you never feel satisfied."

As Anne of Green Gables would say, I think I have a bosom friend in Miss Blodgett.

I read a great article called Finding Patience by Michele McDonald in Tricycle Magazine and I was particularly struck by this:

Any time we want life to be different than it is we are caught in impatience. We lose our sense of humor; and self-pity, despair, and blame seep into the heart...The practice of forgiveness happens when we are able to realize the underlying cause of our anger and impatience, and this allows us to distinguish between someone's unskillful behavior and essential goodness. Serenity and calm develop as we learn to accept imperfection in others and ourselves.

When we discuss humor, we always say, "the sense of humor" as though it were indeed a sixth (or seventh?) sense. Similar to smell or taste, it also can be lost--and then regained. I also like the phrase "the practice of forgiveness," meaning that forgiveness is not a one shot deal, but that you have to do it every day, like calisthenics or face washing or commuting to work. The body has to be reminded of its purpose, usefulness, and pride, and so does the psyche, I suppose.

Hmmm. Maybe I'll start the practice of steamed veggies as a peace offering for my body--and see if it will forgive me for the Bahn Mi sandwich, the split pea soup, the mac and cheese, the macaroons de paris and the tres leches cupcake I traveled over 100 miles to eat this afternoon...

(Forgive me, but baby, it was oh so good!)