I’m trying to eat healthier…for a whole host of reasons. I’m a grown up and know that a steady diet of my ‘comfort foods’ (which, despite my attempt at healthfulness, everything I love to eat…truly love… is a carb when I’m honest). Mixed nuts? Left alone – those are great options but to my tastebuds, they’re ever so much better with a sprinkling of dried fruit…okay, more than a ‘sprinkling’. An example of good intentions dashed.
Easter this year did me in. I can skip the candy but the baked goodies? Oh my stars. Cakes…pies…turnovers…cookies. Yum yum. Except the after-effects are harsh. Not just the poundage that I feel creeping into my mid-section but the realization that the slump and crash and feelings of malaise were entirely avoidable…if only I’d made “better choices”.
So…I spend an inordinate amount of time considering the options. Wanting to enjoy the delicacies but recognizing regret before it ever arrives. I negotiate with myself. Mostly silently but there are times my internal debate MUST be slightly discernible to those around me. If a thought bubble, like a running caption from my brain appeared as I negotiate, I think those near me would flee.
Those internal voices can be harsh…the predominant and pesky minimizer…’it’s only a little treat…you’ll do better later’ or the existential realist, ‘you only live once’. They need to pipe down because they drown out the quieter insights from my nutritional historian who blithely chimes in with, ‘of course you CAN eat that…but remember the headache from last time?’.
We’ve had a swing of temperatures here recently…summer-like over the weekend and snow falling today. Eager to usher in warmer weather, we had an impromptu s’mores night with friends recently…before winter returned (gah!).
As I stood before the array of yummy add-ins to s’mores – peanut butter, M&M’s and more…(they’re not called s’MORES for nothin’!) I found those stupid voices joining the party. I smiled and tended to them on my own, enjoying an overloaded treat that required major clean-up as marshmallow and chocolate goo ended up all over my face and hands.
Each one of my pesky, internal tyrants….my food critics… had a point of view and I heard them all before I took my first big squishy bite…feeling grateful that my inner dialogue is mostly cloaked, not appearing as a thought bubble over my head. No one needs to hear all of that…or know that simple decisions about what to eat…or not…can be so utterly transfixing and annoying.
Still, when the hubster later that night helped with the clean-up, he asked, “What WERE you thinking as you put your s’more together? You looked lost in space.” Oh geez. “Yes, sort of”, I replied. “I was debating my impending sin by s’mores.” He laughed and just said, ‘Oh that again…geez…get out of your head and enjoy.’ Which I’d done…but I giggled thinking about the “tell”. No thought bubbles above my head, but I might need to turn down the volume on my face next time.
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