Today, my eating has been less than stellar. Earlier this week was not much better. As I shared previously, it has been a hectic, crazy week. That’s not an excuse, per say, but it is an explanation for why I have given food less attention this week (or more attention, as the case may be).
I started on Monday morning with a whole wheat bagel. Not bad, but it quickly went downhill from there. Today’s lunch was a disaster. Some time after lunch, however, an epiphany came.
Amazingly enough, it was my office trash can that provided the stimulus to recognize what’s going on with my food this week. While throwing away a document I no longer needed, my trash can helped me face the truth about what I’d been eating for two days.
I love my trash can.
It is one of the most reliable narrators in my life these days. It’s non-judgmental, literal, completely accurate and brutally honest in its appraisal of what I eat. It doesn’t shirk responsibility for storing the left over waste following my meals, and in fact, acts in a utilitarian way to reveal the truth through non-confrontational means. My trash can simply is, and within it lies the remains of meals that testify to the good, the bad, and the ugly.
I guess I should thank my trash can for helping me, but that would be crazy, right? Like eating fried foods and soft serve while trying to lose weight is not.
I hate to report bad news, but an honest admission of what’s happening in my life with food is a necessary component of my recovery, so I admit my mistakes.
I have trash can confirmation, so rationalization reigns no more.
When greasy fingerprints are everywhere, it’s time to begin again.