A Red Gown

 I haven’t wanted to write in months. I’m not sure I want to now, but I need to do so. 


I want to buy a fancy, red, lacy gown. I want to pay someone to make my face and my hair sexy and take photographs that will suddenly allow me to embrace this body. 


I walked a 5k today. I’ve closed all of the rings on my watch since Monday. I stopped exercising for 6 months. Gave up on eating well. I gained all of my weight back plus and extra 10 lbs. 


So I work out again. Try to make better meal choices. Push my body to do more, faster. Daily weigh ins for 6 days. Such small, incremental changes. 


I want to rush this as much I want to rush everything. A list and a task that can be crossed off. A hit of dopamine. Did you know you get a hit of dopamine every time you achieve a goal? That’s what I’ve been told. It’s addicting. A drug that exists inside your own body free for the taking. 


I took a nap today and woke up in tears. I was dreaming of my mom. Hugging my mom and awoke drowning in saltwater and grief because it didn’t feel right and I don’t remember all of the details anymore. 3 years. It took 3 years to leave only the hazy memory of safety and warmth. But none of the details. 


I want to rush through grief. I want to check it off of my list and get another glorious hit of dopamine that tells me I’m happy. 


I want to buy a red gown and let it transform me. Allow adrenaline from excitement and anticipation. Dopamine when the tasks are checked off. And oxytocin and endorphins as my husband sees me in my transformed glory. A true cocktail of the chemicals at play inside the complexity of our bodies. 

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