Yesterday I was feeling really good about this whole Get Healthy (for the love of god!) thing that Jessica and I are doing. With only three days into I thought I can do this. I am doing this. I will rock this stupid thing.
And then, of course, something happened to throw me off my game. Wes is getting a cold or allergies – not that the difference matters when he’s drinking cold medicine like it’s water (or milk in his case) and I’m rubbing him up with Vick’s before he goes to bed at 8:00. So Meals go out the window in favor of soup and tea and all those healthy things to get one Not Sick. Mostly I find eating healthy easy because we cook at home instead of going out and picking up a burrito, and the reason that this happens is because Wes has a little more self control in this arena (it should be noted that while he can get me away from Chipotle, Panda Express and the delicious Mexican “restaurant” down the street, he has no self control when it comes to cookies. Relationships are all about balance.) and can steer me to the kitchen for something that at least isn’t full of . . . bad stuff.
Last night I had planned for salmon, asparagus and wild rice (and some spinach for me) but that all got pushed aside when Wes requested minestrone soup to hopefully cure what ails him. All of the sudden I was craving Indian food. Samosas and naan and chicken tikka masala and whatever that dish is with spinach (boy do I love spinach). One thing led to another and then I was looking up Indian restaurants in our neighborhood and even though the only one close enough was one that I’d already tried before and deemed just okay, I suddenly had to have it. Nothing else would satisfy my hunger. I even told Wes that if he wanted soup I was ordering Indian food. I’d been good all day and I deserved this.
Luckily traffic was awful and in the 50 minutes between work and picking Wes up I talked to my brother and talked myself out of ordering Indian food. Oh, sure it would be delicious. But I would order enough for two-three people to share and I would eat half (or more!) by myself since Wes does not like Indian food at all. And while it would be so yummy while I was eating it I would just feel bad about it afterward, while I was calculating calories.
Yes, I know the point isn’t to deprive myself of things that I will eventually get back to eating. The point, however, is having some fucking self-control when it comes to what goes in my mouth [insert joke here], and if I break on day three then the whole thing will just go down hill. So I took a step back and decided to have to that frozen meal of Indian food from Trader Joe’s. Actually, better than the restaurant I was going to order from.
The thing about eating (completely) healthy for me is this: I was a skinny kid. I was a skinny high school student. I was skinny through college. And then, I wasn’t. And not to say that I ever got fat – just a little flabby – but after you stop being that active kid, your whole body changes. And when you’re not playing sports or riding your bike (because you can’t drive) or walking around campus or walking 10 miles at your job (waitress) then you can’t just drive to Jack in the Box at 10pm and expect that cheeseburger not to go straight to your belly fat. You just can’t. Sadly, it’s taken me a while to realize that. Just because I exercise regularly (um, sometimes) does not mean that I can eat all the shitty food I want.
So here we are to day four and this is going to be the real challenge. Because we only have one car, and Wes is sick and I have plans with a friend to night, I’m leaving work early and will not be working out at lunch. And then I’ll be going to dinner and a movie and oh dear lord the possibilities for shitty food are motherfucking endless. How can I get through this night without gaining another 5 pounds? Well, first I’m going to pick a restaurant where you can look at their nutritional information and focus on what on there is good.
And after that I’m going to spend all day reminding myself that just because I’m at a movie does not mean I need popcorn. No, really, I don’t need it.