(Did I just conjure sleek women with dull expressions and glossy red lips swaying in time to music they are not playing on the instruments they are holding?)
I'm currently in a period of using food for comfort and avoidance. It, in a (crass) word, sucks.
I've been indulging quite a bit with desserts in particular. I'm currently feeling frustrated with certain areas of my life, and rather than allowing myself to feel the frustration and, in turn, allow those feelings to prompt me to action that can possibly make things better, I eat treat after treat.
Makes a whole lot of sense, doesn't it?
The rich, sugary foods make me happy, the full sensation comforts me, and I can forget for a few minutes about things that don't make me happy and that don't comfort me.
Then what happens?
On top of the frustrating situations, I'm now super soft and squishy - just in time for swimsuit season! Talk about frustrating (and a lot of s's in one sentence).
Writing it out like that really helps me see how completely ridiculous it is. And it reminds me of Geneen Roth's book Women, Food and God, or something like that. I'll have to dig up my notes on it and talk more about it later this week.
(Yes, I take notes while I read. You don't?)
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Friday, June 17, 2011
An order of people watching with a side of judgment
Walk with me on a busy city street, will you?
There are several people walking along the sidewalk with us, some alone, some in pairs. Some in professional dress on their way to a smartly designed office somewhere. Some are casually dressed, with a messenger bag or back pack slung over their shoulders. Some are pushing strollers, some are chatting on their cell phones, some are sipping coffee or an icy blended drink of some kind. Some are walking with determination and speed, maybe running behind schedule, maybe just eager to get where they are going. Some are strolling, stopping occasionally to peer in a shop window. Some smile and nod in greeting as we pass by, some look straight ahead.
Tell me ...
That last one is easy, huh?
I know ... appearance is the first thing we see and we judge people on this first impression. But the thing that irks me is that so often the overweight and the obese among us are thought of so disdainfully simply based on the fact that they are carrying extra weight. Simply written off. Either ridiculed or ignored outright.
Wouldn't you think twice about a friendship/relationship with some of the other people listed, even if they were in amazing shape and incredibly physically attractive?
Thin doesn't necessarily equal good. And fat doesn't always mean lazy, smelly and worthless.
And that's not even getting into the reasons why someone may be overweight - medications, physical disorders, emotional issues, anxiety/depression, simple gluttony and lack of self-control, etc.
You just don't know people until you know them. That goes with all stereotypes, of course, but weight is the one I deal with. Like I wrote in my bio, I've been thin and I've been obese. Outwardly I've looked different, but inside I've always been the same person. And it would kill me when I could see the judgement/disdain/disgust on someone's face, simply due to my size. I'd want to shout, "I'm a nice person. I'm generous. I'm funny. I'm a hard worker. Get to know me!"
We've all seen the undercover reports featuring overweight people- I remember one where they had an overweight woman asking for help carrying something, I don't remember how far, maybe a couple blocks or something, and NO ONE would help her, but many people (men) were willing to help the thin woman, even to great lengths, offering to help beyond what she was asking.
I remember a magazine article from a while back in which the author spent time in a fat suit. She recounted how she was walking down the street eating an ice cream cone one afternoon, and a man passing her in the other direction said "Unbelievable" when he saw her. She talked about a time when she and a male companion went to a restaurant, and when she excused herself to go to the bathroom, a pair of ladies nearby commented to her friend that he could "do a lot better." Ack! How the hell do they know that?
The author returned from the bathroom sans fat suit, and apparently the women left in a huff. But the nerve! First of all, none of their business! The friend certainly did not ask for their opinion. Second, they didn't know anything about this woman, but because she was fat, she was low on the good-catch totem pole.
I know fat and flab are not attractive. Trust me. I know this. So, certainly, I can understand someone not being attracted to an overweight person. But what about just basic common decency? What about empathy and giving people the benefit of the doubt?
Hey, I'm not perfect. I can be just as judge-y as the next guy. It's human nature, maybe some kind of protective mechanism, like if I can find something bad or unappealing about someone else, I may not be that bad in comparison.
Speaking of human nature, maybe there's some kind of instinctual thing to this thin worship, like cavemen sought out the skinny cave women because they worried that the fat ones would eat all their food, and it was damn hard going out and clubbing those saber-toothed tigers.
Plus the skinny ones were easier to drag home by the hair.
There are several people walking along the sidewalk with us, some alone, some in pairs. Some in professional dress on their way to a smartly designed office somewhere. Some are casually dressed, with a messenger bag or back pack slung over their shoulders. Some are pushing strollers, some are chatting on their cell phones, some are sipping coffee or an icy blended drink of some kind. Some are walking with determination and speed, maybe running behind schedule, maybe just eager to get where they are going. Some are strolling, stopping occasionally to peer in a shop window. Some smile and nod in greeting as we pass by, some look straight ahead.
Tell me ...
- Which person is embezzling thousands of dollars from his company?
- Which person is having an affair on her husband?
- Which person has a collection of child pornography in a locked drawer at home?
- Which person is an alcoholic who abuses his wife during drunken rages?
- Which person screams obscenities at and verbally abuses her children?
- Which person is wearing something that she recently shoplifted?
- Which person eats too much?
That last one is easy, huh?
I know ... appearance is the first thing we see and we judge people on this first impression. But the thing that irks me is that so often the overweight and the obese among us are thought of so disdainfully simply based on the fact that they are carrying extra weight. Simply written off. Either ridiculed or ignored outright.
Wouldn't you think twice about a friendship/relationship with some of the other people listed, even if they were in amazing shape and incredibly physically attractive?
Thin doesn't necessarily equal good. And fat doesn't always mean lazy, smelly and worthless.
And that's not even getting into the reasons why someone may be overweight - medications, physical disorders, emotional issues, anxiety/depression, simple gluttony and lack of self-control, etc.
You just don't know people until you know them. That goes with all stereotypes, of course, but weight is the one I deal with. Like I wrote in my bio, I've been thin and I've been obese. Outwardly I've looked different, but inside I've always been the same person. And it would kill me when I could see the judgement/disdain/disgust on someone's face, simply due to my size. I'd want to shout, "I'm a nice person. I'm generous. I'm funny. I'm a hard worker. Get to know me!"
We've all seen the undercover reports featuring overweight people- I remember one where they had an overweight woman asking for help carrying something, I don't remember how far, maybe a couple blocks or something, and NO ONE would help her, but many people (men) were willing to help the thin woman, even to great lengths, offering to help beyond what she was asking.
I remember a magazine article from a while back in which the author spent time in a fat suit. She recounted how she was walking down the street eating an ice cream cone one afternoon, and a man passing her in the other direction said "Unbelievable" when he saw her. She talked about a time when she and a male companion went to a restaurant, and when she excused herself to go to the bathroom, a pair of ladies nearby commented to her friend that he could "do a lot better." Ack! How the hell do they know that?
The author returned from the bathroom sans fat suit, and apparently the women left in a huff. But the nerve! First of all, none of their business! The friend certainly did not ask for their opinion. Second, they didn't know anything about this woman, but because she was fat, she was low on the good-catch totem pole.
I know fat and flab are not attractive. Trust me. I know this. So, certainly, I can understand someone not being attracted to an overweight person. But what about just basic common decency? What about empathy and giving people the benefit of the doubt?
Hey, I'm not perfect. I can be just as judge-y as the next guy. It's human nature, maybe some kind of protective mechanism, like if I can find something bad or unappealing about someone else, I may not be that bad in comparison.
Speaking of human nature, maybe there's some kind of instinctual thing to this thin worship, like cavemen sought out the skinny cave women because they worried that the fat ones would eat all their food, and it was damn hard going out and clubbing those saber-toothed tigers.
Plus the skinny ones were easier to drag home by the hair.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
If you can't say something nice ...
I was looking through photos from 2008 to put up on my Bug & Ry-Guy blog and I came across a photo of me at my son's birthday party. It's a side-view shot, and I'm not sure what I'm doing or why someone even took the photo, but I look terrible in it. Hid. I. Ous. I'm so fat; I was completly aghast when I saw it.
Then came, of course, the running commentary in my head of meanness, of putting myself down and scolding myself and threatening myself and giving up on myself.
I'm a bully.
Seriously. I'm so mean to myself. If a friend told me she saw a photo of herself that was less than flattering (okay, even that statement is telling - when I refer to my imaginary friend's photo, I say "less than flattering." When I refer to my photo, I say "Hid. I. Ous."), would I barrage her with statements like, "Yeah, look how huge your butt is. Your boobs look like two swinging canteloupes shoved into your bra. And that shirt? What were you thinking? You probably thought you looked halfway decent, too."
If a friend or sister confided in me about having a bad eating day, would I scold her about how weak she is, about how pathetic she is? Would I demand that she stop eating sugar/flour/desserts/anything at all, immediately?
No. I would never talk to a friend or sister that way. I would find something positive about the photo, and remind her that the point of the photo isn't how she looks anyway, but about the fun party she worked so hard on and point out how happy her son looks. I would tell her the past is past, and if she messed up she can try to learn from it and resolve to do her best; that nobody's perfect, and her worth is not tied up into whether she ate too many calories or carbs in a day; that she is a nice person with many wonderful qualities that have nothing to do with the size of her butt.
I need to be a friend to myself. Because everything I just wrote regarding my imaginary friend or sister is true for me. So, why can't I tell myself those things? Why don't I think I deserve to be treated tenderly?
Because for years, YEARS, I tell you, my self-worth has depended on my size. Big and fat = don't deserve anything good. I remember a long time ago, seeing Oprah talk about winning a daytime Emmy award and how the only thing she could think of as she walked up to the stage to get the award was how fat she looked in her dress. She had accomplished SO much, was winning AN AWARD, but it was negated because she was overweight.
I totally get that.
It's very hard for me to hear a compliment. There's this automatic deflection in my brain, like a tennis racket hitting back a serve, that doesn't allow the compliment to sink in and be appreciated. Too many failures and perceived failures move in to take over like weeds, choking the life out of the compliment, so it withers, dies and is forgotten.
That has to stop. I'm valuable. I have good in me. And, yes, I have a big butt.
So what?
Then came, of course, the running commentary in my head of meanness, of putting myself down and scolding myself and threatening myself and giving up on myself.
I'm a bully.
Seriously. I'm so mean to myself. If a friend told me she saw a photo of herself that was less than flattering (okay, even that statement is telling - when I refer to my imaginary friend's photo, I say "less than flattering." When I refer to my photo, I say "Hid. I. Ous."), would I barrage her with statements like, "Yeah, look how huge your butt is. Your boobs look like two swinging canteloupes shoved into your bra. And that shirt? What were you thinking? You probably thought you looked halfway decent, too."
If a friend or sister confided in me about having a bad eating day, would I scold her about how weak she is, about how pathetic she is? Would I demand that she stop eating sugar/flour/desserts/anything at all, immediately?
No. I would never talk to a friend or sister that way. I would find something positive about the photo, and remind her that the point of the photo isn't how she looks anyway, but about the fun party she worked so hard on and point out how happy her son looks. I would tell her the past is past, and if she messed up she can try to learn from it and resolve to do her best; that nobody's perfect, and her worth is not tied up into whether she ate too many calories or carbs in a day; that she is a nice person with many wonderful qualities that have nothing to do with the size of her butt.
I need to be a friend to myself. Because everything I just wrote regarding my imaginary friend or sister is true for me. So, why can't I tell myself those things? Why don't I think I deserve to be treated tenderly?
Because for years, YEARS, I tell you, my self-worth has depended on my size. Big and fat = don't deserve anything good. I remember a long time ago, seeing Oprah talk about winning a daytime Emmy award and how the only thing she could think of as she walked up to the stage to get the award was how fat she looked in her dress. She had accomplished SO much, was winning AN AWARD, but it was negated because she was overweight.
I totally get that.
It's very hard for me to hear a compliment. There's this automatic deflection in my brain, like a tennis racket hitting back a serve, that doesn't allow the compliment to sink in and be appreciated. Too many failures and perceived failures move in to take over like weeds, choking the life out of the compliment, so it withers, dies and is forgotten.
That has to stop. I'm valuable. I have good in me. And, yes, I have a big butt.
So what?
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Who (what) do you love?
I had this epiphany once. (Yep, just once.)
I know these two women, I'll call them Lisa and Stephanie (because those are their names). One is an acquaintance, one is a good friend. They are both slim, fit and very attractive.
Having had the good fortune to have hung out quite a bit with Stephanie in the past before her smarty-pants of a husband got into a school in PA (the nerve of him and all his dang smarty-pants ambition), I've seen her make many smart food choices, say, forgoing the whipped cream on a small frappucino (like, literally scraping it off into the garbage one time when she forgot to tell the barista to leave it off), or refusing the cheese and sour cream on a burrito (and asking for lettuce instead). She's not obsessive, just careful. She enjoys sweets now and again, but she's not an overeater.
Lisa I don't know as well, but I can see that she's in amazing, enviable shape. And nice? She's wonderfully friendly and seems very sweet. I remember we were at a class party one day (our sons were in the same class), and I sat in a tiny chair with my plate heaped with all sorts of yummy food and treats, while she sat nearby with her youngest son and simply watched the party.
One random afternoon, I don't even know why I was thinking of these women, but I remember it was at a time when I was gaining weight again after a recent loss, and it occurred to me that the reason Lisa and Stephanie are both fit and trim (okay, that reminds me of dog food) ... rewrite: ... the reason Lisa and Stephanie are thin and fit is that THEY VALUE THEMSELVES MORE THAN THEY VALUE FOOD.
It really did strike a chord with me. One of those concepts that is so absurdly simple that you can't figure out why it never occurred to you before.
I obviously value food, since I tend to overindulge and use it for other reasons than keeping me alive. And I simply ignore what my food choices are doing to me and my body.
When Steph declines sour cream, cheese and whipped cream, she knows they are all fattening, and to her the risk of putting on weight isn't worth it. For me and my fat-loving taste buds, I just want to be in the moment and enjoy the salty cheesiness, creamy sourness and rich sweetness, fat be damned.
But look at the payoff. Steph and Lisa get to enjoy wearing what they like and looking fab. They don't have to obsess when the warm weather comes about flabby legs and poochy bellies. They get to tuck in their shirts and wear snug jeans and fitted sweaters and shorts and swimsuits and so on. My payoff ends with the last bite. Big woo. Is that worth it?
I say no.
I know these two women, I'll call them Lisa and Stephanie (because those are their names). One is an acquaintance, one is a good friend. They are both slim, fit and very attractive.
Having had the good fortune to have hung out quite a bit with Stephanie in the past before her smarty-pants of a husband got into a school in PA (the nerve of him and all his dang smarty-pants ambition), I've seen her make many smart food choices, say, forgoing the whipped cream on a small frappucino (like, literally scraping it off into the garbage one time when she forgot to tell the barista to leave it off), or refusing the cheese and sour cream on a burrito (and asking for lettuce instead). She's not obsessive, just careful. She enjoys sweets now and again, but she's not an overeater.
Lisa I don't know as well, but I can see that she's in amazing, enviable shape. And nice? She's wonderfully friendly and seems very sweet. I remember we were at a class party one day (our sons were in the same class), and I sat in a tiny chair with my plate heaped with all sorts of yummy food and treats, while she sat nearby with her youngest son and simply watched the party.
One random afternoon, I don't even know why I was thinking of these women, but I remember it was at a time when I was gaining weight again after a recent loss, and it occurred to me that the reason Lisa and Stephanie are both fit and trim (okay, that reminds me of dog food) ... rewrite: ... the reason Lisa and Stephanie are thin and fit is that THEY VALUE THEMSELVES MORE THAN THEY VALUE FOOD.
It really did strike a chord with me. One of those concepts that is so absurdly simple that you can't figure out why it never occurred to you before.
I obviously value food, since I tend to overindulge and use it for other reasons than keeping me alive. And I simply ignore what my food choices are doing to me and my body.
When Steph declines sour cream, cheese and whipped cream, she knows they are all fattening, and to her the risk of putting on weight isn't worth it. For me and my fat-loving taste buds, I just want to be in the moment and enjoy the salty cheesiness, creamy sourness and rich sweetness, fat be damned.
But look at the payoff. Steph and Lisa get to enjoy wearing what they like and looking fab. They don't have to obsess when the warm weather comes about flabby legs and poochy bellies. They get to tuck in their shirts and wear snug jeans and fitted sweaters and shorts and swimsuits and so on. My payoff ends with the last bite. Big woo. Is that worth it?
I say no.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Several more successes
I continue to feel good, and I'm surprising myself with some very good choices.
Last night I made cheeseburgers for dinner. Anyone who knows me knows I LOVE cheeseburgers. I had also baked up some frozen french fries and had some raw broccoli and carrots on the table, along with some pineapple. (My family as a whole has determined to eat more fruits and vegetables.)
I served up my kids' plates, then got my own. I fixed up my burger, then looked at the baking sheet of fries and realized I didn't want any. When I eat out, and my entree includes fries, the fries are usually the first thing to go. But this time, I just didn't want any.
So, I went to the table and cut my burger in half, got some veggies on my plate, and ate and chatted with my kiddos.
I finished half my burger and looked down at the other half - and decided I was full! Unheard of.
Oh, and we went to Bob Evans for breakfast and I didn't eat six or seven plates of food like I have in past, trying to get a bit of savory eggs and sweet pancakes and delicious biscuits. I had two eggs, one strip of bacon (gave the rest to my husband and son), some of my potatoes and one biscuit. Amazing to me. Seriously.
This morning I was feeling completely drained, and my first thought was, "I'm going to lay down." But then, my second thought was, "I'm going to go for a walk." Which I did.
I've been having these moments for the past few days, and it's exhilarating. I'm leaving food on my plate, I'm wanting to move around more. It's just been changing my focus from a number on the scale or a label in my clothes and having a date on the calendar looming over my head, to each day or each meal at a time, and just being mindful of my fullness/hunger.
Tonight, my daughter wanted a treat of some kind. We really don't have any sweets in the house right now, so I suggested that after dinner, maybe we could walk to the corner store and she and her brother could pick something out. Not DRIVE to the ice cream parlor, but walk to the store. It's less than a mile, but still. Walking is walking.
So we head out. It's a beautiful sunny day here in Michigan and we enjoy our walk and chat. They each pick out candy, and I pick out a treat for my husband and for myself, GUM.
Again, thank you, Lord, for your strength.
Last night I made cheeseburgers for dinner. Anyone who knows me knows I LOVE cheeseburgers. I had also baked up some frozen french fries and had some raw broccoli and carrots on the table, along with some pineapple. (My family as a whole has determined to eat more fruits and vegetables.)
I served up my kids' plates, then got my own. I fixed up my burger, then looked at the baking sheet of fries and realized I didn't want any. When I eat out, and my entree includes fries, the fries are usually the first thing to go. But this time, I just didn't want any.
So, I went to the table and cut my burger in half, got some veggies on my plate, and ate and chatted with my kiddos.
I finished half my burger and looked down at the other half - and decided I was full! Unheard of.
Oh, and we went to Bob Evans for breakfast and I didn't eat six or seven plates of food like I have in past, trying to get a bit of savory eggs and sweet pancakes and delicious biscuits. I had two eggs, one strip of bacon (gave the rest to my husband and son), some of my potatoes and one biscuit. Amazing to me. Seriously.
This morning I was feeling completely drained, and my first thought was, "I'm going to lay down." But then, my second thought was, "I'm going to go for a walk." Which I did.
I've been having these moments for the past few days, and it's exhilarating. I'm leaving food on my plate, I'm wanting to move around more. It's just been changing my focus from a number on the scale or a label in my clothes and having a date on the calendar looming over my head, to each day or each meal at a time, and just being mindful of my fullness/hunger.
Tonight, my daughter wanted a treat of some kind. We really don't have any sweets in the house right now, so I suggested that after dinner, maybe we could walk to the corner store and she and her brother could pick something out. Not DRIVE to the ice cream parlor, but walk to the store. It's less than a mile, but still. Walking is walking.
So we head out. It's a beautiful sunny day here in Michigan and we enjoy our walk and chat. They each pick out candy, and I pick out a treat for my husband and for myself, GUM.
Again, thank you, Lord, for your strength.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Small successes
My new "one day at a time" philosophy has been working.
Tuesday night, as I was showering and getting ready for bed, I remembered that there were leftover pancakes in the fridge. I love pancakes, so when I also remembered we had fresh blueberries to put on top of them, I was extra excited.
Then I thought, I'm not really hungry for pancakes, or for anything for that matter. I'm just right.
But, of course, the rationalizing voice in my head whined, "But I waaaant them."
I almost gave in, but I scolded myself about the fact that I want to have a healthy relationship with food and that I've been talking about using God's strength to get me through temptation, and this was the perfect opportunity to do just that - am I'm going to be obstinate and willful instead? Just for pancakes? Ridiculous!
So, no pancakes. I went to the living room and got out my laptop and worked on my manuscript, and after about 45 minutes I realized that I hadn't even thought about the pancakes the entire time I was working. Thanks, God.
At work yesterday, I was very mindful of my hunger and fullness. I was enjoying some oatmeal at about 10 a.m., and though there was about 1/4 of a bowl left, I realized I was full. So, I decided to take one last bite and made sure it was a yummy one with lots of cinnamon. I was proud of the fact that I realized my fullness and conscoiusly took the last bite; so often I mindlessly eat and eat and then I'm bummed when I get to the end because I hadn't even been paying attention to the food.
I ate lunch around 2, and I had an apple on my desk to enjoy as a snack later in the afternoon, but I never ate it. I was pretty hungry when I got home, but I told myself dinner would be ready soon and I would enjoy it all the more if I was actually hungry. I didn't dig into the chip bag while I was cooking.
At dinner, I enjoyed my food the way I like it - baked potato with butter and sour cream, corn on the cob with butter and salt - I simply ate until I was full. Well, almost. I had baked up a pan of yeast rolls, which are SO good, but anyone who knows me knows that I have a mold allergy and things like bread, yogurt, aged cheese ... anything fermented (even over-ripe fruit) can make me feel sickish and/or really, really sleepy. I had enjoyed two of the rolls (they were small, maybe a little bigger than a golf ball), but my downfall was deciding to have just one more. I didn't need it. I was satisfied, but I was lulled by that sweet, doughy taste.
I had already decided on my way home that I was going to walk since it was so beautiful out. As I changed into shorts and sneakers, I felt sick to my stomach. The only thing I can figure is that it was the extra roll. I was quite nauseated, but I determined not to make an excuse to cancel my walk. I also took a longer route, and I was tired and a bit sore at the end of it, but pleased.
This is the way I want to be mindful of food, in a positive, good-for-me way, not in an obsessive, cravings sort of way. I feel good.
Tuesday night, as I was showering and getting ready for bed, I remembered that there were leftover pancakes in the fridge. I love pancakes, so when I also remembered we had fresh blueberries to put on top of them, I was extra excited.
Then I thought, I'm not really hungry for pancakes, or for anything for that matter. I'm just right.
But, of course, the rationalizing voice in my head whined, "But I waaaant them."
I almost gave in, but I scolded myself about the fact that I want to have a healthy relationship with food and that I've been talking about using God's strength to get me through temptation, and this was the perfect opportunity to do just that - am I'm going to be obstinate and willful instead? Just for pancakes? Ridiculous!
So, no pancakes. I went to the living room and got out my laptop and worked on my manuscript, and after about 45 minutes I realized that I hadn't even thought about the pancakes the entire time I was working. Thanks, God.
At work yesterday, I was very mindful of my hunger and fullness. I was enjoying some oatmeal at about 10 a.m., and though there was about 1/4 of a bowl left, I realized I was full. So, I decided to take one last bite and made sure it was a yummy one with lots of cinnamon. I was proud of the fact that I realized my fullness and conscoiusly took the last bite; so often I mindlessly eat and eat and then I'm bummed when I get to the end because I hadn't even been paying attention to the food.
I ate lunch around 2, and I had an apple on my desk to enjoy as a snack later in the afternoon, but I never ate it. I was pretty hungry when I got home, but I told myself dinner would be ready soon and I would enjoy it all the more if I was actually hungry. I didn't dig into the chip bag while I was cooking.
At dinner, I enjoyed my food the way I like it - baked potato with butter and sour cream, corn on the cob with butter and salt - I simply ate until I was full. Well, almost. I had baked up a pan of yeast rolls, which are SO good, but anyone who knows me knows that I have a mold allergy and things like bread, yogurt, aged cheese ... anything fermented (even over-ripe fruit) can make me feel sickish and/or really, really sleepy. I had enjoyed two of the rolls (they were small, maybe a little bigger than a golf ball), but my downfall was deciding to have just one more. I didn't need it. I was satisfied, but I was lulled by that sweet, doughy taste.
I had already decided on my way home that I was going to walk since it was so beautiful out. As I changed into shorts and sneakers, I felt sick to my stomach. The only thing I can figure is that it was the extra roll. I was quite nauseated, but I determined not to make an excuse to cancel my walk. I also took a longer route, and I was tired and a bit sore at the end of it, but pleased.
This is the way I want to be mindful of food, in a positive, good-for-me way, not in an obsessive, cravings sort of way. I feel good.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
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