Escaping reality means I do things differently. I let myself ‘be’ without worry and without stress. In my real world I get up every day and ride my bike on a trainer. I try to eat as healthy as possible, even though there are daily mishaps, I try to stuff in fruits and vegetables and proteins. I do what I’m supposed to do: work, clean the house, et cetera et cetera et cetera (think of that King dude saying that and it will make more sense).
But on occasion I slip out of reality and exist in another dimension.
Where life is not real.
Where I don’t go to work.
Where I don’t clean house. And as a matter of fact someone comes in and cleans up for me (though I don’t ever want them to think I’m a slob so I try to keep things picked up-but the idea is there).
I don’t drink green smoothies.
I don’t work out. I haven’t been on a bike seat in DAYS. I haven’t practiced my martial arts is DAYS (and fear I will forget everything I have worked years to not forget).
And I ate what ever the heck I wanted.
I had a chili dog for crying out loud! With cheese on it!
I ate in fancy ballroom wearing jean shorts because that’s how I roll.
I drank pop (in some parts mistakenly called ‘soda’) every single day.
I allowed pictures of myself to be taken with my fat rolls showing. (Okay, I did crop those pictures.)
I ate ice cream and was disappointed there wasn’t more.
Cherry Danish? Of course!
Real cream and real sugar in my coffee. I was living large.
I haven’t had a drink of water if four days (and really miss it).
My escape from reality was short lived. I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing. I don’t have any clothes that would fit if I lived outside of my reality much longer. I have to return. No….I get to return. I mean, who can live without stress and worries forever? Not me. And I’d really hate for them to force their way in to my escaped dimension. I’ll come back to reality where they belong.
And be glad to leave them again, for brief jaunts.
No this one is not cropped yet. In my other dimension I look quite svelte here!