"I guess I have a lot of problems, so many that I don't have time to go into them all in detail. Suffice it to say I'm anal, obsessive, vain, quick to temper, overly introspective, lazy, judgmental, insecure, and self-righteous. Probably the most annoying thing about me is that I'm hugely opinionated. But I kind of make up for that by always being right."

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Day 22: Unwanted Visitors

I recently realized that I started this project to kind of paint myself into a corner. If someone beckons to me from outside of this room -- this place I've chosen to make my stand against unhappiness -- I can not go to them as I always have in the past. Not without ruining a lot of hard work and letting down a lot of sincere people who've been paid good money to care about me.

Last night my old friend Gluttony paid a visit. He stood just outside my room -- in the kitchen, actually -- taunting me with a huge bowl of cookie dough ice cream. Bastard. How he knew I was particularly vulnerable at that moment I don't know. But he kept whispering that one bowl wouldn't hurt anything, that I could make up for it tomorrow, that I deserved a little treat for all of the hard work I've done.

Oddly, all of my visitors seem to have this same uncanny ability to say just the right thing to undermine my determination. Shame, who's been camped outside my door since I first put brush to floor some three weeks ago, keeps reminding me of all of the times I've tried to lose weight, of all of the exercise programs I've begun. Then, cruelly, he holds up a mirror so I can see just how miserably I've failed at both. This is when Self-pity sticks his head in the window and, fighting back tears, tells me how much he misses me. And I have to admit, I miss him too. We were so good together, so comfortable.

But I can't move. I'm stuck in this corner because so many people (like you) are watching me right now, because I have a team of friends and experts supporting me, because a documentary is being shot about my efforts here, because I know that if I fail this time I will forever consider myself a failure.

The problem, of course, is that change happens so slowly it's hard to even notice, especially when you keep looking for it. In fact, it's a little like watching paint dry.