I feel badly about myself.

I took a long shower, and this is what I realized: I feel like shit about myself. Nothing to do with weight or eating; I just feel like I'm ... not good. I don't feel like I have any particular talents, like I'm particularly smart or funny or anything. I hate it when I feel like this. It may just be PMS, but right now I just feel like I'm completely useless. I feel like a total loser.

Speaking of PMS, I'm interested to see what my period is like this month. Last month's was the lightest I've ever had in the 19 years I've been dealing with that pointless (for me) monthly cycle. (It really pisses me off every month when I'm put through pain and discomfort because of a capability of my body I will never willingly utilize.) I've been on the same birth control since November, and the only thing that has changed is how I was eating. I know insulin can affect a lot of the hormonal processes in the body, so I'm wondering if that might be a nice side benefit to ex-naying the carbs. We'll see.

I did okay today, although I did use all my carbs at one meal. I had a jar of alfredo sauce and some chicken I'd sauteed in olive oil, and I was craving pasta in a wicked way. I could have gone to the store for a box of Dreamfields LC pasta, but I should eat what I have since monetary funds are severely limited. After battling the craving all day, I decided that I could have real pasta ... if I made it myself. Well, that stalled it for another hour or so, but I really wanted some damn noodles. So I made up a very small batch of pasta dough! I wasn't sure it was going to work; the recipe I'd looked at said to knead until the dough was smooth, but I wasn't sure I'd be able to tell when it was smooth enough.

As I was kneading the dough, and examining the texture, I realized I knew exactly what it should look like. I'd never made pasta on my own, but I'd made it with my mother when I was very little. It always amazes me the things that have stuck in my head from those experiences. I made royal icing to decorate some cupcakes once, and the smell brought back ... not exactly memories, they were a little too vague for that, but a definite feeling and familiarity. One time at the first restaurant I worked at, somebody asked what the difference was because lemon meringue and lemon cream pie. I was kind of shocked when I heard an explanation of what meringue is come out of my mouth, because I didn't know I knew. The pasta dough was another example of that. I should have sliced it a little more thinly before cooking, but other than that it was quite tasty and hit the spot. I should have spread my carbs out more through the day, but I was still within limits.

Either tomorrow or Sunday I'm going to go prostitute my blood, as a friend of mine calls it. One of the few good things about being fat is that I get paid a much higher rate for my blood plasma than skinny folks! We'll see how it goes. I never had a problem at the donation center in my old town, but the one here I stopped going to because they could never find my damn vein! In retrospect, I wonder if it's because I'd gained about twenty or thirty pounds since I was going to the other center. I've lost about half of that, so we'll see if that helps. I really hate doing that; it's not painful, but it's boring. My free arm gets tired from holding up my Nook! But especially the first five times as a "new" donor, it's worth it. Assuming they can jam the bigass needle in my arm in the right spot.