Avocados and Other Demons.

Today was one of those days were I felt guilty every time I took a bite of food, and now all I want to do is jump on the scale.

I have long denied any connection between my emotions and the way I feel about my body. The most I was willing to say was that my body got in the way of my happiness, and it did, but not in the way that I meant it. My body got in the way of my happiness because I made it my enemy and swore that I would never be truly happy until I had vanquished it–lost 50 pounds, shed five inches off my thighs, wore a size 8–however, that was the only connection I was willing to acknowledge between my body and my emotions.

Today though, guilt followed me around like the proverbial trained puppy. I wanted everything and nothing for breakfast; I picked on dried fruit and pretzel chips, and felt bad for even wanting pretzel chips, let alone eating them for breakfast. At lunch, every nibble of my grilled chicken wrap felt like one bite too many. And when the pilot light went out on my stove, leaving half my dinner undone, I didn’t even bother to relight it, even though that was the part of the meal I most looked forward too. The strange part though was that I wasn’t really having any (more than normal) negative thoughts about my body, but I still felt tremendously guilty for having a body that needed things.

Tonight I think I figured out why.

My best friend got a new job yesterday, and I truly am very happy for her, but a part of me is envious. We both graduated college this year; I graduated in the winter and she escaped just this past May. It took me until the end of July to secure a job, and I was only able to get it because someone else left the small company where I was interning, and even then they waited nearly two months to offer it to me. In spite of having a degree, with a double major, in spite of having graduated with honors, in spite of having some experience in my field, I had no other job prospects. I never even received a call-back for the jobs I applied to.

My best friend on the other hand, had several interviews scheduled, and blew many of them off or didn’t take follow-ups as seriously as she might have. She went weeks without applying or even looking for jobs. And then, this one fell into her lap, and it seems like a fantastic job. Don’t get me wrong, she deserves a fantastic job; she works hard, she is smart and talented, and she has suffered more than her fair share at work and in other areas as well. But that’s why I feel so guilty.

She’s my best friend and I love her, and I want her to be happy, yet I can’t seem to shake my petty jealousy. She’s going to be making more money then me. She’s going to have better benefits than I do. She’s working for a well-connected company, so she can build a big network. She has an assistant. She’s also going to get to travel and go to some pretty exclusive events. And I get to work in a shabby loft in a no-frills neighborhood, making less than she would have if she’d accepted a management position at her retail job, in an area of my field that doesn’t interest me that much.

Are there perks to my job? Of course there are. In fact, most days I’m sure it is the right place for me to be right now, but sometimes I just get so tired of working so hard and feeling like I have nothing to show for it–especially when I see someone else work just as hard and get so much more.

That’s a hard thing to admit though. It’s much easier to feel bad about eating half an avocado.