A few days ago I wrote a blog about the Christmas office party and how I thought I had done well with my eating during that event. You can read all about it here. I still hold to the conviction that I did well with my eating that day. Interestingly enough though, that party occurred on a Friday, which meant that I had to take the left overs home with me instead of my normal mode of operation, which is to leave it here for the office staff to munch on until it is all gone. Friday was also the day out of town guests came to stay for the weekend. Yikes, two big challenges for this gal.
I may have mentioned it here before…that I am no hostess, so having additional mouths in the house always becomes a challenge for me. It means I have to shop for extra food, spend extra money on that food, tailor meal planning to individual needs, spend extra time preparing and cooking the extra foods, and find myself surrounded by “stuff” I don’t usually have lying around. And to make matters worse, almost all the extra foods I had in the house over the weekend were members of the unholy triad: fat, sugar, and salt.
One of the take away’s for me when reading The End of Overeating, by Dr. David Kessler is this mental image I’ve created of mad scientists of the food variety burning the midnight oils, huddled over cauldrons of Twinkies, cheese spreads, and kettle corn, trying to figure out how to pack as much fat, sugar, and salt into their products as these num nums can possibly hold. I see them in my mind’s eye with coke bottle glasses and cowlicked hair, lab coats donned, pocket protectors glinting under the glare of laboratory lights, dipping their bony fingers into smooth, milky, dark substances and then licking them off, taste testing every molecule of creaminess, before tweaking the recipe, until finally they whisper a breathless, “Ahhhhh!”
Yeah, I know, I have a vivid imagination, but back to my Monday morning panic…
Come Monday, I’m beginning again. My company is gone. The food is gone. The stress of playing hostess is gone. A little extra cheese dip is sent to another office to be eaten. I’m back on the wagon, thinking I did well, and then it happened. I stepped on the scale.
Now, mind you, the scale was acting up over the weekend. It probably needs a new battery. It weighs differently depending on where you place it on the bathroom floor, or how many times you hop back on after getting off it. How do I know this? I moved it around, several times, trying to get a better Monday morning reading than what the darn thing was showing me when I hopped on the first go round. Ugh. Up three pounds! How can that be?
The inquisition begins in my mind:
What did you eat that you aren’t telling me?
Why did you HAVE to have that piece of cheese cake? Slivers count!
There was no reason to serve cheese dip and tortilla chips with supper Sat night!
Why did you have to drink that flavored coffee at the fast food joint?
It’s because you’ve eaten less vegetables lately that this has happened (foot stomp)!
Nothing for you for the rest of the week, right???! RIGHT???
Okay, so it wasn’t that bad, but these are the types of things I might have said to myself ten years ago. Heck, five years ago. Today, I take a gentler tact with my ego, so when I saw that number, what I really said was…
I’m disappointed with that number, but I know that much of that is water weight. I have not been drinking as much water this weekend as I usually would have, plus the cheese dip and chips on Saturday night, though few, were loaded with salt and that did not help. I was able to eat free of compulsion this weekend, though, and I was reasonable about what went into my mouth. I made sure to get veggies in me, so stop panicking. This will come off pretty quickly. Now, get up in that saddle and ride, girl. The ranch is depending on you!
I like to think of myself as an independent rancher and sole proprietress of a successful and thriving enterprise from the 1800’s when I stumble with my food plan. I also like to imagine myself sitting alone in the desert eating beans from a bowl and listening to the hungry wolves howl on those occasions. Don’t ask me why. Panic does that to me–throws me into a beans and franks mentality.
The good news: Today’s scale read 2 lbs down from the Monday morning reading. Woohoo, we’re back on the wagon and headed toward civilization once more!
But seriously, as I close out this Christmas Eve post, it is with gratitude in my heart for all that I have learned about my food obsession this year; with understanding that a long walk in the right direction makes a difference; with sympathy for others who are just beginning this journey, or are struggling to get back on track; and with an appreciation for the God of my understanding, who has walked hand in hand with me through the last twelve months, regularly pausing along the way to remind me to smell the roses and take in the sights. I’m looking forward to 2014 and all the new things I will learn and lessons I will have, because I know that God isn’t done with me yet. I have many more experiences to enjoy, more challenges to face, more recipes to try, and more reasons than ever to believe that change is possible. Because of all this, I am here and able to hope that your Christmas is blessed, rich, love-filled, and peaceful, and that your New Year is all you hope it to be.