Craving Comfort

I am craving comfort these days. Comfortable clothes, comfortable shoes, comfortable temperatures, comfortable pillows ... just plain comfort.

I wore a pair of sandals as I walked from the house to the car; from the car to my destination; back to my car; then home. I wish I had a step counter to count how very few steps I took in my rather ugly and very old orthotic sandals. Not many. As soon as I settled in for the night I wondered why my feet felt "off". The sandals. It had to be the sandals.

My feet have been the least of my worries lately. Ill fitting clothes have me searching online for comfy tops and bottoms that don't pull, bind or restrict. Long story short, I've had no luck. And I honestly don't feel like spending the very little expendable cash I do have left over at the end of my pay cheque on restocking my wardrobe. 

To top things off, I'm in the middle stage of a hair style I'm not comfortable wearing. "It will grow" are the words I've been uttering since I encouraged my hair stylist to go a little shorter. What was I thinking? I have no idea, except it most likely had a lot to do with not wanting to get my hair cut again any time soon. Mission accomplished. 

It is truly no wonder why I have zero to no inclination to leave the house. I am not out to impress anyone but I simply want to feel comfortable in my own skin (yes, that feels a little tight as well). 

I know I must be more conscious about what I eat. This ill-at-ease feeling centers in my stomach and what I've been feeding it. The comfort I get from nibbling on those crisp, salty, greasy little nuggets of former potatoes feel like a nice, warm hug at the end of my day.

I don't crave chips on the weekend. It is my work week that has me running for consolation at the end of my days. It has nothing to do with hunger and everything to do with comfort.

Something has to change and I think that something is me. Finding comfort in my days without finding that comfort in food is food for thought.