Anyone who knows me knows that I have some serious food issues. Like no joke, I should see a therapist. I think about food ALL THE TIME. I go to bed thinking about what I am going to eat for breakfast the next morning, and the only thing that gets me through the week is thinking about all of the wonderful restaurants I want to try. I literally fantasize about the grilled cheese truck while I’m working out with my trainer.
At least once a day, I find myself wondering “Why did I just eat that [cookie/cupcake/block of cheese/French Toast/ice cream, etc.]? Why. Did. I. Just Eat. That!? The feeling usually hits me when I am halfway through whatever tasty treat or delectable delicacy that I shouldn’t be eating.
Then, instead of stopping and throwing away the offending delicious morsels like a normal person, I enter the five stages of food grief:
When I’m tearing through a pizza, as the grease and sauce is dripping down my hands, I tell myself: “It’s no big deal, it’s just bread, cheese, tomato sauce and ranch dressing (for dipping, DUH)”. Tomato sauce is made out of tomatoes, which are VEGETABLES! And cheese is dairy, so it has calcium, which is great for bone density. This pizza might actually be healthy! Either way, I am just going to have one slice, just to taste it.
After the denial inevitably wears off, then comes the anger:
Hold on… so this pizza is NOT healthy!?!
Six slices later… Why did I do that? Why can’t I control myself?? Why does bad food taste so good!?!
After I realize that whatever I ate isn’t good for me after all, and get pissed at myself for eating it anyway, then I enter the bargaining stage.
You know what? The fact that I just ate all of this crap is actually a blessing in disguise because now I am super motivated to eat better.
So since I ate shitty today, I am going to eat super healthy for the rest of the week. Grilled chicken and vegetables (real ones, not pizza sauce) until the weekend. AND I am going to workout TWICE tomorrow. I will wake up early for a run and go to yoga after work.
Bargaining made me feel much better because I thought things were really going to change. But by the next morning, the hopefulness has vanished and the depression sets in.
Today was the day I was supposed to start eating healthy and go to the gym twice. I didn’t even go to the gym once because I couldn’t pry my ass out of bed this morning, and I was too tired to workout after work. Instead, I ate two cupcakes (and I don’t even like cupcakes) alone in my car (and stashed the evidence, thus hiding my shame), and the whole process starts all over again.
I usually never make it this far in the process, but on the rare occasion that I do reach the acceptance stage, I have one word: leggings. I’ll just wear leggings.