Dinner Parties

With my grandparents, brother, and aunt in town, I had the occasion to cook for a large(ish) party last night. I nearly killed myself doing it, but it ended up being a lot of fun and a great success. The food, though a little cold due to some miscommunication over time, was fantastic. The company was brilliant. The mood was jovial.

I served a first course of what I'm calling "Trilogy Thai Soup" for it's three major flavors: sour, sweet, and spicy. The main components are coconut, lime, ginger, chili, and shrimp. Here's the recipe for 8 people (for a first course) or 4 people (for a main course):

1 can coconut milk

1 can vegetable broth

1 and 1/2 cups cooked brown rice (about 3/4 cup raw)

One medium green bell pepper, diced

2/3 cup diced scallions

1 pound cooked shrimp- tail off

3 tbls lime juice

2 tbls turmeric

1-4 tbls sriracha sauce (Thai chili sauce- sometimes called rooster sauce)

2 tsp freshly grated ginger

1 tbls sweet Hungarian paprika

1 avocado

1/4 bunch of fresh cilantro (Chinese parsley)

Salt to taste

Start cooking rice ahead of time so that it's ready while you're making the soup (brown rice takes about 45 minutes to cook.) Make sure to add some salt to the water.

Put coconut milk, broth, ginger, lime juice, sriracha, and all spices into a pot and begin cooking over medium heat. When all components are well blended (when cold, they'll remain somewhat separate,) add bell pepper. After about 4 minutes, add shrimp. After 2 more minutes, add rice and increase heat to high. Stir frequently. Add scallions. Add all but a few sprigs of cilantro (for garnish) to the pot, after tearing them into smaller pieces (tearing, rather than cutting, releases more of cilantro's pungent flavors into the soup.) After another 2 minutes, turn off heat.

Ladle portions into bowls, making sure to ladle from the bottom of the pot, where all of the rice, shrimp, and peppers will be resting, and then also from the top, where the flavored broth and milk will be. For first courses, this will be about one medium ladle-full of each. Add a small mound of chopped avocado to the middle, where it will be supported by the rice and shrimp below. Add a sprig of cilantro to the top. Love and yummy!

In each (first course) serving, there is about: 300 calories, 19 grams of fat, 19 grams of protein, a quarter of the recommended vitamins B and C and half of the recommended vitamin D, along with about a quarter of all daily recommended minerals, including iron, but excepting calcium. It also includes one full serving of whole grains.

Since I doubt I'll be cooking tonight (I believe my good friend Bubbly and I will be each other's dinner company) I'll post the rest of the meal tomorrow if you want me to. Otherwise, we'll leave it at that!

Happy New Year!

Saints and Zinners

I love the Zinfandel varietal. Love. Lovelovelovelovelove. In fact, I would venture to say that, should I be forced to choose but one alcoholic beverage to drink for the rest of my life, it would be a good Zinfandel.

Now. For anyone who isn't into wine, "Zinfandel" is actually a red wine. Made from red grapes. It is NOT pink. If it's pink, it is a sweet, vaguely wine-like impostor. It is not Zinfandel. White Zinfandel is actually made by removing the skins from those beautiful red grapes and then fermenting just the flesh. It's a travesty and I am becoming nauseated just thinking about it.

Moving on.

Anyway, that was my dinner last night. I decided to have my wine night. It was magical. Just the two of us. Snuggling up on the couch, a romantic fire going, some candlelight. We laughed and cuddled. Oh. Bryan was there, too.

So no recipes today. Unless you'd like me to teach you how to make wine. If that's the case, I'd suggest buying a book. I am by no means an expert. Although I would love to own my own vineyard some day. That's my pipe dream. A small hotel with a vineyard, a winery, and a Michelin-starred restaurant. The likelihood it'll happen? Hah! Slim to none. But a girl can dream, right?

Cooking a big, lovely meal for a large party tonight. I'll post everything tomorrow!

Love and yummy!

Tuscan Rotini with Pancetta, Rosemary, and Thyme

I forgot my cellphone (again) but I did take pictures, so I'll post them tomorrow. I don't know what it is, but I absolutely hate using recipes that don't include a picture of what the dish looks like. Maybe I'm just more of a visual person than a lot of cooks. Who knows.

Anyway. Bryan's dinner was so delicious that I had to have a few bites. But I made up for it by not having my veggies and rice and also not having two glasses of wine. I had one. I planned for three in my calories. That might sound like a lot. Until you taste the wine I currently have in my "cellar" (read: counter top.) It's amazing. I have nothing even remotely near the "just decent" line. So I anticipated my wanting a little more... and then a little more... and then...

You get it. Funny thing is, like I mentioned yesterday, alcohol hasn't been all that appealing to me lately. Not even my lovely wine. Which works for me- I save money and calories. And don't have to be concerned about when I may have crossed that vague line into what I like to call "lush-land."

So here's the recipe- it will make two servings. So a dinner for two or a dinner and a lunch, etc. Or double it for a family, halve it for a single serving.

Two cups whole wheat (or whole grain) Rotini
Half package of lean bacon or pancetta (about 6 pieces.)
Two cloves of garlic, minced (or more, if, like me, you can't get enough of the stuff.)
One 1/2-inch thick slice of red onion, cut into four quarters
Two un-packed cups spinach
1/8 cup extra virgin olive oil
5 sprigs fresh Thyme
2 sprigs fresh Rosemary
1/4 cup grated or shaved Parmesan
Coarse sea salt and cracked pepper to taste
Sun dried tomatoes and/or roasted red bell peppers (optional, but lovely.)

While completing other steps, boil water for pasta and add pasta when boiling- when pasta is finished, strain and set aside.
Cook the bacon or Pancetta until just crispy. Set aside on paper towels and periodically pat any grease off. Let cool.
Drain excess grease from pan, leaving only a film. Put heat at medium and return pan to stove. Add red onion. After one minute, add garlic, stirring frequently. After another minute, add leaves from thyme and rosemary. Return bacon to the pan. Add spinach. If using sun dried tomatoes or roasted peppers, add now.

When spinach is wilted, turn off heat. Add mixture to pasta. Add olive oil to pasta. Add salt and pepper to taste. Mix until olive oil thinly coats all pasta and mixture is evenly dispersed. Serve. Garnish each serving with the Parmesan and a sprig of herbs.

Each serving has approximately: 443 calories, 22 grams of fat (80% from the olive oil, which is a "good" fat), 20 grams of protein and 42 grams of carbs. It's also full of vitamins and iron and contains a full serving of veggies and 2 of whole grains.
Love and yummy!

Shifting Gears

Granted, I'm only about three months into my smoking quit, but I think it's time to switch gears, more or less officially, to my weight loss. I only rarely have cravings that are so terrible I honestly think about giving up my quit, so I'm now going to cautiously put that part of my goal on the back burner. I think it will be okay back there on it's own.

Now my focus is squarely on my weight. I've decided I'm not going to focus on drinking at all. I've learned over the past couple of weeks that I don't need to. It kind of takes care of itself as long as I'm also focusing on losing weight. Alcohol does have calories (and sometimes quite a lot), afterall.

I've also come up with a clear goal. What I want. I want to lose half of my weight. Oh yes. You heard... er read... that correctly. Half. My ass is that big. I have gained 20 pounds since I quit smoking, and those are going to be the first pounds to go. I refuse to let something healthy that I did for myself turn into another problem.

The goal is to lose at least 2/3 of that weight by Independence Day. I am determined to rock a swimsuit and look damn good doing it. I am going to start a chart which I will post soon. Same goes for progress pictures. I'm not posting them now because, well, I want to be able to say I've made progress. I am still mired in my own shame. I am still furious at myself for letting it get to this point. So pictures and my chart will be somewhat retrospective. At a point where I am proud enough that I've done something about it.

So here it goes. I have one day left (New Year's Day) to eat whatever (hangover burritos... yum.) Today, however, I will be good. I am sipping my coffee with no cream and Splenda. In a moment, I will go get one tamale from my lunch and eat that for breakfast. Then two tamales for lunch. Dinner will be veggies only. Maybe a little brown rice. A glass of red wine. Bryan, in the meantime, will get his beloved pasta (but wholegrain) with wild mushrooms, bacon, and I'm thinking an herbed cream sauce. A little sprinkled parmesan. Yum. Too many calories for me, but I do love to cook for the hubby. Maybe I'll start posting some of my healthy recipes here, too. Maybe some of the not-so-healthy ones on special occasions. Like the seared duck breast and red-wine braised duck legs over wild mushroom and goat cheese risotto with pomegranate and redwine demi-glaze I served for Christmas Eve.

Okay. No more. I'm hungry.

Okay, seriously?

What happened to my willpower? I was looking for it yesterday and couldn't find it anywhere! I looked under the scale that keeps ticking upwards. I looked in my holiday-meal-splurge-stuffed refrigerator. I looked in all of the candy-filled stockings. I looked in the closet, between my masses of clothes that barely fit (or don't fit at all.) I looked at work, behind all of the fattening, sugar-filled, caloric suicide food people bring and put in the lunchroom (no doubt because they actually managed to find their willpower, and it commanded them to get that crap out of their houses.)

Hell. I even looked at the Chinese restaurant down the street. After they welcomed me by name and asked if I'd have my usual, I just walked away- my willpower was definitely NOT there.

I've always been able to jump back on the diet wagon. But the wagon must have gotten souped up, cause it's leaving my fat ass in the dust.

I need inspiration. I need motivation. I need someone to babysit me and cart me to the gym no matter how much I kick and scream.

I need to find my willpower.

Strike that...

We start tomorrow, ass. We start tomorrow.

Happy Holidays

I was hoping I'd be so awesome by now that I'd magically manage to bypass the whole gaining-a-bunch-of-weight-around-the-holidays thing. Apparently not.

The husband and I celebrated our birthdays this past weekend. We had a lot of fun. And a lot of drinks. And a lot of food. When it's your birthday, calories don't matter. I think I read that somewhere. Anyway, someone forgot to tell my ass that. It is still under the impression that calories DO, in fact, matter. Not only do they matter. They matter a whole lot. Cookies, apparently, are not calorie free just because it's your birthday. Neither are birthday shots or the hangover burritos the next day.

Damn.

So I made a deal with my ass. I said, "Look, ass. I will give you three more days this holiday season. Three days during which I will not scrutinize you or say you look like a bowl of jelly stuffed into a balloon. Three days on which I will not monitor your big-ness. I will allow you to eat whatever you want. Those days are Christmas Eve, Christmas, and New Years Day (for the hangover burritos.) On the other days, I don't want to hear any whining. You will subsist on what I like to call a stranded-on-a-deserted-island diet. Restricted calories. Nothing processed. Nothing refined. Nothing fried. And don't even think of trying to convince me that the plane you were on happened to be a hostess delivery plane. I am smarter than you, ass. I own you. You will obey."

It was a bit of a tough-love talk. But, you know? Sometimes that's what it takes.

Soy Chai

Since when is a venti soy chai a full breakfast? I had to be at the gym at 5:30 this morning, and so didn't want to eat that early. Since I go to work directly from the locker room, I had to improvise for breakfast. The fact that I'm dirt poor combined with the fact that I need to watch my calorie intake led me down soy chai lane.

I'm not entirely sure where the logic came from, but it seemed completely reasonable at the time. Now I realize that while I kept my calories to a reasonable level for breakfast and did get a good dose of protein, I also consumed a... how shall I put this... buttload of sugar. Ugh. I'm so angry at myself and at Starbucks for making such sugary spicy foamy delicious concoctions.

Oh. Did I mention that I added whipped cream? Yeah. Then there's that.

I had a random craving yesterday, but I managed to get through it okay. I think the gym is helping. I was stretching this morning and this guy came over to use the machine I was next to. He was covered in tattoos and reeked of cigarettes. My first thought was, "what are you doing in a gym?" I guess it takes all kinds, as the cliché goes.

More on the gym later.

For now, I'm going to dwell on my utterly preposterous notion this morning that soy chai constitutes a healthy breakfast.

**dwelling**
**dwelling**
**dwelling**

Fab New Diet

I've got it. The next diet craze. I will make millions. I'm going to call it... "Get a severe illness."

It's going to be huge. Hop on board now, before everyone figures it out. My book will be sold out and no one will be able to get a copy.

Okay, obviously I'm kidding, but it was pretty much the only silver lining to three of my four days off this past holiday weekend. Thanksgiving itself was lovely, but Friday? Friday was probably the worst day of my life. I developed Toxic Shock Syndrome, though, of course, at the time I didn't know what it was. First I thought it was my muscle relaxant (soma). Then I thought it was the flu. No such luck. I'll spare you the gruesome details, but essentially I found out it was TSS on Saturday night. Had I known on Friday what I figured out on Saturday, I would have been in ICU. Because that's where they put people with TSS. It's fatal in over half of all cases due to major organ failure.

I managed to fight off the worst of it on my own by forcing fluids whether I couldn't keep them down or not, sleeping, and staying bundled up to stoke the fires of my fever. Later I got antibiotics to kick the rest of it. What is even better than the fact that I am now probably one of the only people to actually lose weight this weekend, is that I gained a new and amazing appreciation for my body. I may fight with it over pecan pie and perfectly roasted turkey, but it's got my back in a serious fight.

And for that, my body is beautiful to me.

Perfect Timing

So I tore a ligament in my neck. While it would never be considered a "good" time to tear a ligament, it's especially difficult now. I have a veritable pharmacy at my disposal to manage the pain, the spasms, and the inflammation, but none of these medications gets along well with alcohol. So I have to either not drink or drink too much (in order to drown out the pain.) Moderation is not an option. Great. Just when I'm trying to re-learn how to do just about everything in moderation (except smoking- no such thing.)

Another side effect? Hunger. Yeah, like I needed more of that. If I don't eat, the pills make me sick and I end up throwing up whatever I last put into my mouth. Not fun, especially considering the fact that throwing up is how I tore my ligament in the first place. I've upchucked more times in the past two weeks than in the past two years. And it's excruciatingly painful to toss your cookies with a torn neck ligament. I end up crying into my toilet.

I swear this is some cosmic joke. It has to be, right? I can't win. I keep hoping I'll wake up and it's been one of those disturbingly real dreams that I thank the heavens is over.

I'll keep you posted on how that goes.

Warrior Pose

When kicking any bad habit, we're taught that we need to know what our "triggers" are. What situations, people, feelings, etc. set off the urge to commit said bad habit. For me, the urge to smoke, at this point in my quit, pretty much only comes when I'm either depressed or stressed. The urge to overeat comes mostly at the same times. Drinking? Same.

I continually find myself in these situations lately. It's like I'm being tested. Work is the worst it has ever been, I'm in a new home, I seem to be going through one of those "pruning" phases with my friends (e.g. I seem to be losing a lot of people I once considered really important), and I'm so broke that I'm just waiting for actual moths to fly out of my pockets- a la vintage cartoons.

I need to find a new way to cope with stress and depression (because that's another "gift" this whole process seems to have given me.) There are volumes written on how to replace the bad habits with healthy new ones and endless lists of suggestions. I don't like them. I feel like a stubborn toddler, but I don't want to do those things. I don't want to meditate. No thanks. Puzzles? I mean, puzzles are fun and all, but I don't have to actively smoke, eat, or drink. Half the fun of those things is that they can be done while doing something else at the same time. I can't really carry on a conversation with my husband while trying to remember that river in China for 24-down. Crafting? MMMmmeeehhhh. I'm more of an active artist than a crafter. If I want to create something, it's usually something very involved. This is a possibility, though. Maybe I'll put that one back on the table.

Take a bath. Right. In the middle of an argument with the HOA, I'm going to hop into the tub. Not really practical in 90% of stressful situations.

Take a walk. See above. While helpful in a few instances, it's not possible in the majority. I'd be walking non-stop. This is just a stab in the dark, but I'm pretty sure my bosses wouldn't appreciate me walking around the building instead of working.

And my favorite of all... stretch. Wait, what? Really? My boss comes in to yell at me. I start getting both depressed and stressed at the same time. I can feel the pressure and soreness in my throat that signals tears are on their way. I take a big swallow. Push it down. Stand up and... touch my toes. Nice. That's good. Oh, sir- go ahead, I'm listening. Just gotta stretch out the old hammies. Aaaahhhhh. Yeah. Ooh! Went a little far there. How about the quads! Sounds nice. Reach behind me and grab my foot, push it into my glut muscle. Wait a minute, this would work WAY better if I took off these bothersome high heels. Okay, keep going. You think my productivity sucks, huh? Oh, sir- you really should get in on this. This is.... fabulous. Okay, well, I'm sorry to hear that my employment is hanging by a thread. That really stinks. Maybe we should stretch out our calves! That's sounds great! Are you sure, sir? You look a little tense. Oh. Okay. See you later!

Come on. Really? Stretching? Who writes these lists?

Waging War

I've managed, somehow, to end up back in a state of depression. I can deal with depression. I've dealt with actual, clinical depression before, so this is really not that bad in comparison. What I'm finding hard to deal with is the fact that I'm going through this at all. I'm over a month quit. I've come to terms with losing "a friend" and having to fill my time. I still haven't been able to brave the sinister, growling porch in order to read, but I'm doing fine with everything else. So why is this happening now?

I know a lot of it has to do with what seems to be mild body dysmorphia and depersonalization. I literally feel as if I'm battling with my own body. I've started thinking of it as "other". I'm not entirely sure when this started happening, actually. I just realized a couple of days ago that I constantly talk and write about myself as if I'm two separate things- my mind and my body. I feel like I have no control over my body. I hate it, but not in the way a teenager hates their body- where one is merely uncomfortable in their own skin and wishes they could be different. No. I actually, literally hate my body- I think of it as an entity separate from myself. This entity has betrayed me. It doesn't care what I want or what I think or what is good for me (or it, for that matter.) It seems only to want to piss me off. When I want to exercise, I suddenly have joint pain. When I want to sleep in, I'm wide awake. When I want to wake up early, I sleep past my alarm. When I want to go to bed early, I can't fall to sleep. When I want to stay up late, I fall to sleep on the couch. When I want to curb my appetite and eat only a little, I'm suddenly voracious. When I've given myself the go-ahead to splurge a little, I'm not hungry.

I. Can't. Win.

I feel like I'm in a fierce battle, and I'm starting to feel the effects. What terrifies me, and what I think is causing the depression, is that this is going to break me. I am so scared that I will keep fighting and fighting and fighting and then realize, at some point, that I can't do this. I'm still determined right now, but my resolve is diminishing. I can feel it.

I hope and pray that my body realizes it's being an a**hole soon and begs for my forgiveness. Otherwise, I fear I may be the one on my knees... broken. Ashamed. And no longer a non-smoker.

Passing one month...

The cravings have, for the most part, stopped. When they do show up, they're far more docile beasts that are easily vanquished. However, I'm now living with this huge, voracious monster. It follows me around religiously and I can almost always smell it's fetid breath and hear it's labored movements. It's become massive and terrifying. It's my appetite.

I've started exercising pretty regularly again. At least four times per week for at least half an hour. I'm proud of that. But it's not helping my appetite. At first I started losing the weight I've gained since quitting smoking, and I was jubilant. Then the appetite began to grow in relation to the exercise so that I'm back where I started again.

Stress doesn't help. It seems like every time I try to take on a life challenge, like quitting or dieting, that's when life becomes the most difficult and challenging all on its own. I've GOT to figure out something that works for me to reduce stress and relax that doesn't involve my big fat mouth.

Ferme ma bouche.

No alcohol. No smoking. No food. Not even healthy food. This has become a problem all on its own. I have got to change the way I think about food. Not just replace my oral fixation with healthy snacking. It's the oral fixation that has got to go. I'm even seriously considering further emptying my already meager pockets on a cognitive psychologist. I fear it may take some professional help to re-structure my thinking process.

But for now, I'm going to try to do it on my own. I'm going to stop snacking altogether. I don't want to be chained to this addictive oral thing forever. Even though healthy snacks won't bust my waistline, they're not going to help me get over the root of the entire problem: my mouth.

I have officially declared war on my mouth and it's irrational desires. I'm going to try starving it. Unless I need to eat or drink for sustenance, it's not getting fed- at all.

Hopefully the monster will shrink in time and stop harassing me. It's really quite unattractive.

Three Weeks...

Apparently, in smoking cessation, there is a well-used term: the icky-threes. The worst points in quitting are 3 days, 3 weeks, and 3 months. I didn't think much of it until I got to this point and started having different and new problems. I'm more emotional. I have joint pain, and now, all of a sudden, I have trouble sleeping through the night without waking. Then I thought about it. I'm at the second "three". My third day was also my worst, so maybe there really is something to it. If so, there should be some sort of involved study of the whole phenomenon.

We're talking really smart scientist-types. If I were a trained research psychologist or neuro-scientist, I would SO be all over it. I have a feeling there's a Nobel lurking in this mess.

Alas, I am neither of those things and must stick to suffering through the mystery rather than profiting from it. **sigh**

Fifteen Days...

Last night was better than expected, but still not as good as hoped. I managed not to graze our house into famine, but I did make a much larger dinner than usual, and couldn't keep my paws out of the dishes while they were cooking. I officially became ashamed of myself when I realized I had been eaten slightly raw potatoes just because they looked really good and I was impatient.

I fear for my marriage at this rate. My poor husband and his raw potato-eating wife. It was almost a new low.

Eventually I will figure this thing out. I didn't manage to get to the store last night, so I'm blaming that. I have this fantastic list filled with waistline-friendly munching foods. Things like grapes and raspberries for freezing and carrots for crunching.

I did have two glasses of wine. But I didn't feel bad about that. I actually savored it- I purchased it on my recent trip to Paso Robles wine country- rather than kind of sucking it down absentmindedly.

So... Slow progress. But progress nonetheless.

Two Weeks

It's been two weeks, now. There are good days and bad days with the smoking. There are only bad days for the eating. I thought I could do it, but I've managed to gain 10 pounds. I have got to figure something out before I end up looking like the stay-puft marshmallow and have to be crane-lifted out of my house in the mornings.

Today is officially my first day really trying to tackle the food thing. I was giving myself a little slack because the smoking was the main addiction with more difficult withdrawals, but no more. Now that I've gotten the worst of it under control, there is no excuse to continue to stuff my face with whatever sounds yummy. No more cupcakes.

Day Three

Better than yesterday. And the day before. True, I did snack on candy, but I didn't eat the whole bag. I had a serving and a half. So... not bad.

Then I had 3 light beers. Also... not bad.

At this point, I'll definitely take "not bad" or "okay" as a HUGE step in the right direction. Especially considering the starting point of "awful" and "terrible" and "dismally depressing."

But. Now on to my first weekend and day four. I got a great idea from my quitbuddy, Marty. I'm going to keep my quitting forum open on my computer and venture back outside. When I start to feel depressed or get a craving, I'll open up my forum and get inspired all over again. His thought is that it will eventually lead me to connect being outside with gaining my freedom. It was brilliant.

So, wish me luck on getting my favorite pastimes back- being outside, reading, and connecting with others.

The countdown...

Obituary

Vanessa's smoking habit will be sorely missed. It was a reliable friend and loyal confidante.

Vanessa's smoking habit (VSH) was born in 1993 on a warm summer afternoon to a group of curious girlfriends. It led a wild childhood, often involved in petty theft and shoplifting due to it's underage parents. As it got older, it blossomed and matured into a truly strong and confident habit, although constantly seeking approval from it's mother.

Throughout the years, it has truly made an impression on Vanessa. It became more than a child she had nurtured. It became a close friend. They shared many nights together. Reading by candlelight. Laughing with a crowd. Writing down their secrets. Their wishes. Their dreams. Sharing countless sunsets and sunrises. Thunderstorms. Hot summer nights. A fantastic pinot noir. An acceptable pinot grigio. A dismal Bordeaux.

They saw the world together, and Vanessa always made sure to have a balcony so that VSH always felt at home. They saw the Mexican Riviera aboard a cruise ship. They saw Paris. They saw Geneva. Italy. Canada. Most of the United States. The Bahamas. Honduras. Grand Cayman. Belize. Alaska.

But what will be missed most is the enduring friendship. VSH could always be counted on to cry with, vent to, or to soothe a frayed nerve. It was always there when Vanessa needed it most.

VSH is survived by it's mother Vanessa and it's sister alcohol. VSH was preceded in death by it's brothers: gambling and shopping; it's sisters: painkillers and cutting; and it's best friend: eating disorders.

In lieu of flowers, please send donations to Vanessa's lungs, heart, skin, hair, brain, and teeth. It is our hope that they, at least, should benefit from the loss of one so beloved.

Day Two

Yesterday was even worse than my first day. I was kind of pissed off about that, actually. Isn't this supposed to get easier rather than harder? At least I didn't end up consuming everything even remotely snack-like in the house. I had a few sunflower seeds.

Oh. And, like, an entire bottle of wine.

I swear. I need to get the hang of this before I become either a major drunk or balloon back up to my high school weight. There has GOT to be a middle ground, right? Round three tonight. I'll let you know how it goes. My willpower only has so much battery life, so I need to figure this out fast. The alternative? Resuming both my overeating and my smoking habit.

I had my first bout of depression associated with quitting smoking last night as well. I read that it was likely to happen, but I didn't expect it to happen to me. I expected to get irritable. Angry. Sleepy. Hungry. But not sad.

It hit me around 7:30 or so. I was thinking about how much I love to read outside at night, curled up in a cozy blanket, with a glass of wine and a few cigarettes. I got incredibly sad- almost like I was grieving. The thoughts were junkie thoughts, I know- mis-associating things you love to the bad habit so that your brain (in its withdrawal) can trick you into thinking you HAVE to smoke/drink/bump in order to enjoy those moments again. I'm irrationally thinking that I'll never be able to enjoy a good book again. I know it's irrational. I know it's ridiculous, even. But I can't stop. I'm sincerely hoping thoughts like that go away soon because it's making me melancholy and prone to self-pity. I detest both melancholia and self-pity. In me and others. So, if it doesn't quit I'll have to add self-hatred to the list.

I swear it feels like this never ends.

Day One

Hi, my name is Vanessa, and I have... a couple of problems.

I think my basic problem is that I apparently have an all-around addictive personality. Thank God I have a great family and friends, otherwise I could have ended up in a far more horrible place. But I am or have been at some point addicted to a large variety of things. Shopping. Smoking. Drinking. Work. Junk food. Sweet food. All food. No food. Cutting. Fingernail biting. Chocolate. Teeth-grinding. Internet gambling. Pencil-chewing. Pen-chewing. Cuticle-chewing.

And so on. And so forth.

Luckily, I've managed to kick almost all of my bad habits/addictions over the years, but a couple have stuck around. But I've come to one of those points where I find it ridiculous that I'm still doing them. So here it goes.

When I started dating my husband, I quit smoking. Well... sorta. At first I cut waaaaayyyy back. Then I switched to clove cigarettes, which, for whatever reason, cut my cravings down by quite a bit (and didn't gross my husband out.) Eventually, I cut down to a few in the evenings only, usually when I'm hanging out with my husband or friends or enjoying a glass of wine. Then, the FDA announced the ban on flavored cigarettes. It was the perfect opportunity. I bought a small stock and settled in with the end in sight.

That end came the night before last. Last night was my first smoke-free evening. My second is fast approaching. It's hard. Harder than I thought it would be, considering the fact that I'm barely a smoker these days. I didn't smoke for at least 20 hours at a time every day. But it's still hard.

I did all kinds of things to keep me occupied. Including snacking.

Which brings me to my other problem- food. I have never had a healthy relationship with food. Ever. My family was always on a diet, so I basically learned that food was the enemy. I was a chubby kid. Then a very large teenager. Finally, at around 20, I got a grip. I lost over 100 pounds. I met my future husband. We got married. I slowly started gaining it back.

Now I'm at that "damnit!" point. That point where I'm pissed I've gained back almost half of what I spent so much time, effort, and sacrifice to lose. I've had it.

I've decided I'm keeping only one vice- my love of (and sometimes overindulgence in) good beer and good wine. The other two remaining ones have to go.

I'm putting out my cigarette in that cupcake. And then turning my back on both.