Cookie fairy

Obviously, there is some supernatural element at play in my life. Here’s the thing. I work in an office that offers a very lively cookie culture. That is to say, someone is always bringing in a box or bag of cookies, homemade, store bought, doesn’t matter, there are ALWAYS cookies on a table about ten feet away from my desk.

When I first started here, it was a massive problem. I was eating two or three cookies a day, just because they were close at hand. Then a few months ago I just stopped, and I haven’t really even looked in the direction of the cookie cabal at all. It certainly helps that in that time I’ve realised that I actually don’t have much of a sweet tooth, unless the sweets are really REALLY good. But run of the mill grocery store chocolate chip cookies? Meh. Not that interested. Even home-baked stuff doesn’t excite me too much these days, unless it’s really complicated. Or unless I made it and I know what’s in it. Or unless my mother made it and I can rest assured that it will be entirely worth however many frillions of calories it will cost to eat it.

But all that said, every once in a while, I think, yeah, a cookie is just what I need. This usually happens if the cookies on offer are coated in chocolate. So I do my thing where I eat some of my healthy snacks, fruits or vegetables or whatever I’m packin’ on the day in question. And when I’ve done that and I still want a cookie, I have a few almonds from a bag I keep in my desk drawer. And when I’ve done that and I still want a cookie, I tell myself I can have one in a few minutes, soon as I finish reading a news story or writing a script or sitting in on a phone meeting or whatever banal task I’m “engaged” in.

And lately, by the time I’ve done THAT, and I STILL want a cookie and I decide, ok, well, it must be real, guess we’ll indulge after all, I turn around, and the cookies in question are gone. And this has happened, like, half a dozen times in the last month. Thank you, Cookie Fairy.

And you know what? I see they’re gone and I just think, oh well, ok, no cookies, then. I do not go on autopilot, grab my coins and head to the vending machine for a Mars bar. It doesn’t flip that sugar switch inside me. It just falls by the wayside.

And I kind of can’t believe that this is me. That I am calmly able to just let it go. That’s what it’s all coming down to lately, though. In the morning, I look at myself in the mirror, and quietly, I say, just let go. Let go. Let go.

I never thought I’d become the kind of girl who whispers to herself in the mirror, but hey, the world is full of surprises, many of them much nastier than this one.

And anyhow, this is my work lately. My work is letting go. As much as I laughed and laughed when the naturopath said, with some degree of solemnity, “I think your body has trouble letting go of things,” obviously, she’s right. And it’s not just my body, hell no. My mind, too, is tenacious to a fault. And the two of them work together to keep me hanging on to every thing that’s ever happened to me, everything I’ve ever put my hands on, every emotion that’s ever flitted across my heart. Every bad experience is tucked up under my right shoulder blade. At yoga in the mornings, I work on releasing it, bit by bit. I drink water and eat good food in an effort to persuade my body to let go a little, it’s alright, we won’t starve, we won’t die thirsting, we are ok here, just let go of what we don’t need anymore. I breathe deeply and walk and listen to tunes on my iPod and I realise that the moment is an ok place to be, and I don’t need to linger in the past or rush toward the future. I can let go of regrets and expectations. Let go, let go, let go.

And yeah, it’s all led to the first loss I’ve seen in a few weeks (down a pound and a half this morning), and that’s great. But better than that? Better than that by far is the way I feel. Strong and healthy and so fucking happy. Better than I’ve felt in years and years. I feel the realm of the possible expanding in the nicest way for the first time in so long, and I am standing right there, right on the edge of it, and I am moving forward.