So… Miss Eris vs. The Diet Demon of Hickery-Dickery-DOOM…
A bit of background before we delve into the madness?
I am on my third and final attempt at HCG Protocol… a.k.a. The Diet of Doom. Controversial? Yes. Effective? It seems to be. People say they’re not hungry, it’s awesome, blah-de-blah-blah-blah. Yes, it works but the past has shown that my body doesn’t take well to it without a mega-dose of big pharma’s Diet-Pill Funpack. Gods, I’d kill for some phentermine or boot-legged ephedra, but they’re just a quick (and highly effective) fix. It works, but it take a Herculean effort on my part. The hunger is the worst part for me. It’s a knawing, unending, unnerving, constant, stupifying hunger. Usually after a couple of days, most people do just peachy. They lose quickly, and keep it off. I’ve seen miracles happen on this shit. Other people? Totally touched by the Diet Angels of Weightloss, Sweetness & Light. Me? I dance with the Devil. In Georgia. Wearing blue Prada dresses. Bastards. I don’t do well on the Rx HCG, so I am opting for homeopathic. What the hell? Let’s make like a Nike Wand, and JUST DO IT.I just don’t give a fuck anymore. I just need it to work. I need to get through it, and not give up. One last hurrah! Part of me thinks that this isn’t the right way to go blazing into battle, while another part of me thinks it’s the only option I have. Yeah, I could go low and slow, but I will play Self-Saboteur. I know this about me. I need an Ace of Wands to start this shit off with a BANG!
So… Cardy-Card-Cards… Can I make it through this time? Successfully?
The atmosphere surrounding the central issue:
I feel like this is the only way to do it. I’ve left safety behind. What usually works doesn’t work anymore. I am in new territory, and it’s frightening. I am looking for answers, but I know deep down they are within myself. I just need to be able to find them. How do I do it? Is this the right way? I don’t know if I can do this, but I feel like I have to make the decision for myself and stay the course. I, and I alone am the only one who can get me through it. It’s hard. It’s lonely. I am exhausted. This shit doesn’t seem to be much of a lantern at this point, and if so… it’s remarkably dim. Reflection needs to be done, and it’s just not easy.
The obstacle that stands in the way:
Six of Cups
You know what is easy, though? Deriving enjoyment from food. I enjoy eating good food and drinking delicious beverages. It’s more a social thing than a solitary thing. If I think about what is the biggest issue for me, it’s food in a social setting. It’s easy for me to give in, give up, or throw in the towel when I’m out to dinner with friends, or someone at work is running to In-N-Out Burger. Food is a shared experience in a lot of ways, and I can’t think of too many social setting in my life where it doesn’t play some role. If I am going to slip into Saboteur mode… this would be where and when it would happen. Obstacle? You bet. Many people in my life don’t understand dieting, and how it works for me. One little slip or one little sip, no matter how kindly and graciously offered, and the whole house of cards comes tumbling down. HCG Protocol is particularly bad for that. Seriously.
The goal, or the best I can achieve without a dramatic change of priorities.
Eight of Cups
If I keep going the way I’ve been going, hungry, shaky, blood sugary, and on the prickliest swordy edge you can imagine… I will say “fuck it!” and walk-away. This is typical. Especially on Protocol. Protocol is especially brutal for me in ways that it is not for other people. I feel that same old feeling of desperation. I am so hungry that the tears are welling up in my eyes right now. If I change nothing, this is the way it will go. I will go get myself a spinach salad for lunch. With cranberries. And nuts. And a bit of gorgonzola. And a light raspberry vinaigrette. I will blow it, because all but the spinach is not allowed on Protocol. I will become upset. I will feel like a failure, although it’s not really a terribly unhealthy lunch. I will walk-away. I will eat cereal for dinner in protest. I will be back to square one. I see this. I feel it. I am right there, about to slip. About to give up and walk the fuck away. All kinds of 8 of Cups.
The foundation on which the situation is based:
Nine of Wands
Again with the battle analogies… I am exhausted. Physically from the diet, and emotionally from the horrible guilt that comes when you’re on the precipice of FAIL. Yet part of me thinks that I have it in me to keep going. Keep fighting the good fight. I know I can do this, or at least an alternative to it. If not this, then what? I am primed for it. I am ready. Perhaps this attack plan isn’t the brightest. Perhaps the troops need to regroup and strategize. I am not done fighting against myself… I need to fight smarter, and keep going despite this moments setbacks. For the record, I feel so hungry that I think I am going to start dry-heaving. Ugh….
A passing influence or something to be released:
Ten of Cups
Saiety. Yeah, I am going to be hungry. Yes, if I eat… I will probably get full. Yet it won’t last. Perhaps the idea that I need to be full all the time, or eat everything on my plate, or keep eating after I am full is something I need to combat. FIGHT! YEAH! I also see this as relating back to my Six of Cups. I might want to try and avoid those types of social settings where eating naughty foods are expected, or not be too hard on myself for feeling as if I’ve disappointed people for not eating the stupid office birthday cake. Cravings can be satisfied creatively… A couple of squares of dark chocolate usually do the trick for me. Waaaaaaay better than a couple of Cadbury eggs. Compromise. I don’t need to leave it all behind, I just need to fight smarter. You don’t have that kind of flexibility on Protocol.
An approaching influence or something to be embraced.
What are my priorities? What is most important to me? What choices do I have? Is temptation to ditch Protocol and go with something kinder and gentler a good possibility? I believe there are other options I hadn’t considered that may help. I also think it might be wise to go with my gut, and rumbling belly. I may want to throw in the towel, but it is not giving up. It’s so that I can jump in another ring. I see this quite clearly, at this point. I’d be a fool not to consider it. I also think it would be the kindest, most loving thing to do for myself. I am misery incarnate. It doesn’t have to be that way. It is not black and white… It’s somewhere in the mirky gray, and that in and of itself is not all bad. I have a choice.
My role or attitude:
The High Priestess
I am not reading this in a traditional way for myself, although I do think some reflection might be in order. I do think that the answers lie within. For me, the HP almost always indicates that I have to put my HiGh Priestess pants on. Literally. I have a great deal of resources within myself to draw upon. Magickal support… Just because I’ve tried before does not mean I can’t try again. It might be a good way to do what I can to help with the other part of the journey. Special K is who I need to turn to. She who eats and absorbs the darkness. I have lots of darkness… I could use to shake some off. It could make this process easier. I just think it will take more work than other things I’ve tried. Persistence. I’m up for it, Kali-Ma… Let’s chat soon.
My environment and the people I’m interacting with:
Nine of Pentacles
The toughest part of this stupid Protocol is seeing some people in my life who’ve been wildly successful with it, truly exeeding all expectations. I am envious of the relative ease of their success. They’ve made it look effortless, as if it were nothing. “I wasn’t hungry at all. I had to make myself eat.” My experience has been anything but effortless. They all look wonderful, and are enjoying their weightloss. They’ve earned it. Protocol is hard for most, but rewarding. Because I have a tougher time of it, it’s hard not to feel bad. I want that for myself, but I am still enlisted in the Diet Army of Doom. My ass makes my uniform look fat.
Hopes, fears, or an unexpected element that will come into play:
Five of Swords
The agony of defeat… Yet again. Of course this is something I fear, and hope to conquer. Who wouldn’t? This is a duh.
The ultimate outcome should I continue on this course.
Wheel of Fortune:
DESTINY! Basically, through this reading, I’ve deduced that Protocol is a NO-GO. I will only be giving my enemies what they want if I continue on this course. I have choices, and I don’t have to give up just because I am changing my strategy. This may be a blessing in disguise. The Wheel tells me that my gut feeling on this was right all along, and that something needs to change. Going on my present course and making this work simply won’t work. I am destined to go another way… A better way? Well, anything is better than this shit. Protocol sucks.
Lunchtime! I am going to grab that spinach salad, and it will be awesome. I can’t think if I am spending my days hovering on the brink of tears because I am so hungry. It’s not okay. Not at all.
*I’d advocate HCG Protocol in a clinical setting for sure, especially for someone like me who has issues. A lot of people swear by it. I’ve seen it work. I can’t bad mouth if for everyone, simply because it’s not for me. I don’t think it is wise to do it on your own for some of us. I honestly feel that in a clinical setting, my issues could be addressed. That doesn’t make it suck any less, though.
EDIT!!!!! FUCK AN ANTELOPE WITH AN ARTICHOKE, FATES! You don’t mess around. My mom just called me. A friend of the family who has had great success on this Protocol is experiencing a rather serious medical issue directly due to HCG Protocol. She is okay, but will unfortunately continue be at risk. I’m sad to hear the news, but it’s no coincidence that I got this news today of all days. No coincidence at all. I don’t plan on having kids, but I’m still young enough to pop one out if I wanted to. Accidents happen (let’s hope not. Babies are evil and terrifying creatures). This could have happened to me just as easily. No. Thank you, Gods. Duly noted. Guess who needs a sandwich now? Me. Me. ME!