Old Pizza

YESTERDAY I FINALLY SENT IN MY PORTFOLIO TO CONCORDIA.
I've been wanting to type that sentence for a long. ass. time.

After months of agonizing over the idea of moving to a different city. Weeks of procrastinating. Days collecting of pieces of work and choosing the right one. Hours writing, rewriting, and editing. Minutes waiting in the line to the post office to express post the package. IT IS DONE. IT IS DONEEEE. Now all I have to do is wait. Which I'm sure will seem like forever until the second I have an enveloped in my hands with the test results in.

This has been chomping on my brain for the past little while-- it was like NaNoWriMo but for editing, and it was only 15 pages long. My time when not workin' or working out was burned up on all of it. And I have been doing a LOT of working out. (Which means more than my usual 3x a week. I don't mean for hours on end...I'm not THAT insane.)

Last week, Jill put me up to a challenge to lose 3 lbs before the end of February. I am nothing if not sugar coated niceness to hide my envy and competitive streaks, and so it's basically GAME ON, right now. I started carefully watching what I eat (except I did eat one Cheeses Murphy special...there was chorizo involved....I regret NOTHING) what I drink, and breaking a sweat, even a little one, on a daily basis.

I was doing pretty well until I walked into the back room for my lunch break at Shoppers and I saw it. An abandoned pile of pizza boxes. Now, it did not matter that I was about to eat my own dinner, which I reasoned was small and would leave me hungry. Or that the pizza was cold, probably going stale. What mattered was-- it was PIZZA.

I'm pretty sure I blacked out because when I came to, I was standing, noshing on a stale, floury slice of the veggie variety, gazing at the grease stains on the bottom of the pizza box and the remaining sad, faded slices. I looked at wilted tomatos in their former glory. Then the floppy slice of pizza in my hand with a sizeable bite out of it. I tasted the dry cheese and the flat tomato sauce and suddenly, I stopped. Everything ground to a halt.

Inside, my action hero heart screamed NOOOOOOOOOO and I grabbed for a wad of paper towels into which the half masticated old pizza was promptly spit and discarded into the garbage can, along with the rest of the unchewed slice.

Then I found out later the pizza had been sitting on that counter for a full 24 hours. That was how I started to be really aware of my automatic-eating habits and saved myself from possible spores as well as terrible pizza. Good life choices are good.