SCALES AND MIRRORS Part 11 ©
A belated Happy New Year to you all. Weighed in at a whopping 197 this AM when I finally found the courage to step on the scale I’ve been avoiding for three months. See what happens when you’re not vigilant? It just creeps up on you. So, what happened????!!! I spent two months making a ghetto apartment habitable after being evicted after being turned down by better housing because of the eviction. Seems my attorney worked for somebody else. Two days after we thought we won, an eviction notice showed up on our door and our big time lawyer quit, with a big gotcha.
Wow. Talk about being stunned. The laws the law in Cleveland and this landlord who seems to own the city or at least the religion he belongs to does, squeezed us until the revenge he sought satisfied him. I cannot believe the viciousness of humans. So for two months, while working to seal the flat off from roaches and rodents, and until we could get a stove and refrigerator we ate out. Pigged out – with no offense intended toward the pig. We didn’t care. We were surviving. Sometimes when you’re surviving you’re supposed to eat. That’s what gets you through the nightmare. One could say, we chewed it up and instead of spitting it out, ate it.
I feel another beginning coming on. Do they ever end? Hopefully not, since it is in new beginnings that we gather the hope required to forge ahead with failings and all. We’ve settled into our ghetto apartment on the third floor with a view of the sky that we call Rose’s Castle. We love it. Believe it or not. No mold except what we brought with us. Radiator heat. High ceilings. $395.00 a month with all the heat and hot water we can use. We tore up the carpets, shined the floors, caulked every seam, every crevice, scraped, painted, adorned until we have a designer ghetto flat. A perfect place to write, a stone’s throw from the lake, a big kitchen, long hallway office: dubbed Famous Hallway Office, and a brand spanking new state of the art computer, security system, printer, scanner, shredder, internet hook-up. Who would believe that we could come back with such a force after falling so hard? No, after being pushed so hard by people who have nothing better to do with the devil in their hearts than to make the lives of others a living hell.
We took our own mold samples before leaving the apartment, had some of them tested, discovered that the health department rigged portions of their initial tests, and I’m in the process of alerting the old tenants. We found a new lawyer, after our HMO refused to pay our bills and after the hospital put me on notice saying that doing their secretarial work was going to be my new second career. I even developed several recipes using my 2 Tablespoons To Thin rule.
We enjoyed a Christmas, and took a vacation in Cleveland, which consisted of things we like to do: namely eat out. So, now we pay the piper. It’s okay though, because we both, hubby and me, made the decision together. It’s time for Boot Camp. We need it; we want it. We had our party after the fall. We picked ourselves up and made a home for ourselves where we’re warm, happy and ready to rock and roll. At first we thought the party was over, now we know the games have just begun.
It’s time to take this bull of a body by its horns and force the weight off. No kidding around. I want to be trim so I will be trim. Remember the scales? I just found another interpretation that just might do the trick.
Wave that magic wand Sharon. You have it; use it. And so it will be so. I don’t care what anybody else does, thinks or says. I don’t need to support anybody else’s unhealthy industries. Ever notice how trim CEO’s of large restaurant chains are? Even they don’t eat their own food. Well, Dave Thomas of Wendy’s did, and look what happened to him? I’m not going to pay them, while they make me fat. And all those friends of yours who want you to get fat and unhealthy with them? Will those friends be visiting you in the hospital or nursing home when you’ve half eaten yourself to death? I doubt it. It’s time for you to be your own best friend. That’s the only best friend you will ever need.
I, like you, center my entertainment around food. The more the better. A banquet every other night to soothe your tormented souls is what the devil of a doctor in your mind has been negligently prescribing you. And to what end? To destroy you. That’sthe end part. That’s what that little devil you keep listening to is trying to do.
You’re being brainwashed every day and night of your life, into consuming products that make others rich off of your gluttony fueled by the misery they know all too well that you suffer. They feed off of you like barnacles on a whale, sucking all your money, exchanging it for fat that you need to carry around as proof that they’ve broken your bank. They’re stealing from you, replacing the silver you hand over to them, not with interest, but with fat. FAT!!!!
Stop. Now. Turn around and look in the mirror and stop thinking it’s a fat mirror. Sure it’s fat. Because you’re looking at the real you. Now look at those successful CEOs. Are they fat? I don’t think so. That’s because they’re taking your money, not your fat. The rate of exchange is all wrong. They’re cooking the books – on you – and your fat is the proof.
It’s time to learn how to eat to live. Forever. Not just for a week or a month or a year, but forever. If you go to a party and the party makes you fat, thus unhealthy, stay away from that party as you would stay away from a shot of heroin, a snort of cocaine or a bottle of liquor or a pack of cancer sticks. Would you go to a party where they’re serving heroin? Yes? Well, then you’ve got a problem in addition to your weight. It’s time to party healthy. What? No fun? Since when is eating unhealthy fun? You have been brainwashed. Time for a rewash.
THE WASHING MACHINE EFFECT. I always hear the same story put out by large companies producing products they want you to consume: we give them what they want. That’s why you find cows in your French fries and apple pies at McDonald’s. Who on this green earth ever told McDonald’s they wanted cows in the French fries and desserts?
I’ve got a cow in my French fries and they’ll only remove it if I belong to a particular religious sect, and only if I sue them? Now who is dictating to whom here? I thought they said they give people what they want. I don’t want my vegetables laced with any kind of animal. I want a vegetable to be a vegetable. So, when people started eating less meat, the meat industry found ways to insert meat into products not normally containing meat.
When first arriving in Waterloo, the section of Cleveland we now live in, we went to one of the local restaurants for lunch. I wanted a salad. Every salad on the menu had a different kind of meat in it. So, I asked the waitress if they had any vegetarian salads. She looked at me matter of factly and replied, ‘no’. This is the extent to which the meat and slaughter industries have brainwashed us. A restaurant, with one of those Denny type menus – everything but the kitchen sink on it – yet I couldn’t get a vegetarian salad. I settled for a grilled cheese sandwich and left feeling unhealthy.
Ever wash your own clothes, either at home in a machine or at the laundromat? What happens when you overload the machine? Your clothes don’t get as clean, because they’re packed in too tightly not allowing for the freedom of movement required for the water and detergent to reach every fiber.
Many fat people are malnourished, believe it or not. They stuff their guts so full that the enzymes needed to digest the food, cannot possibly work as efficiently as when a smaller portion is put in the stomach, allowing not only for better digestion, but greater utilization of the vitamins, minerals, proteins, fats and carbohydrates. When you over-pack your stomach you produce the same effect as when you pack too many clothes into your washing machine.
Ever see a tracker trailer going uphill with a full load compared to a lighter load? A truck with a full load will crawl up the hill, stressing the engine, and then speed down it by the sheer weight of it. A lighter load climbs and descends the hill with greater ease, proving that the more weight you carry around, the more difficult it’s going to be to move and the greater stress it puts on all your body parts.
WHY ARE YOU FAT? It doesn’t matter. There’s never only one reason anyway. So why bother analyzing yourself. Besides you already know why you’re fat. You eat too much for your activity level. We already discussed this; we don’t need to do it again. Knowing why you’re fat doesn’t change anything. I no longer care why I’m fat. Knowing didn’t solve the problem. You will lose weight when your desire to be trim outweighs your desire to overeat. Plain and simple. Tip your own scales by your own attitude.
My husband and I have made a decision: Boot Camp. I’m getting tough. I don’t want to hear any more whining. I got myself where I am. It doesn’t matter who or what provoked me. If I wasn’t strong enough to resist the provocation, that’s my weakness – and their problem when I get stronger – when I start demanding some interest on the money they took from me.
I want to get off this train of last suppers. How many last suppers does one have to consume, before one stops calling it the last? It’s over. Kaput. No more food. No more excuses. Not a one. I don’t want to hear it. I won’t listen. Just take the darned weight off. What a wimp. What a sorry excuse for an animal.
No, I will not take it easy on me – or you. You’ve had it far too easy for far too long. Now it’s time to put some money into this meter, because this fat piper wants to get paid in cash, not fat, and the only way that can happen is if I can convince you that you can do it by proving to you that I can. That’s the bottom line. When I accomplish that goal, it’s pay day for me. Finally.
Do you have toxic mold anywhere in your living space? Or work space? Or is there toxic mold in the places you hanging out when not at home?
Mold causes weight gain.
I never got back up to 197 pounds again. We vacated the apartment where the wall voids will filled with black mold from water leaks that weren’t repaired properly by maintenance staff. Although we couldn’t see it, except what was on the radiator covers, we breathed it in 24/7 for as long as we lived there. We were sick for a long time after being hospitalized. Daisy Mae our cat died from it. Rose, our dog, survived, but had a rough time like we did.
When I was in the hospital some person named Dr. Hutt (probably a CIA doctor) brought in a research article for me to read as I laid fighting for my life – published by some group from Harvard University called ‘THE BALONEY FACTOR IN MOLD. I was stunned beyond stunned. He said, ‘if we treat you, the treatment itself will give you more brain damage than you already have. Better to take the long approach of being removed from the environment.
Richard Miller, that’s who owned the apartment building. He wouldn’t let us leave unless we paid nearly a year’s rent left on our lease. The mayor’s office said the only way to get us out was to be evicted. Seven years in a ghetto building was our consequential punishment for reporting the mold and contacting authorities when the owner refused to let us go without paying the remainder of the lease.
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