Birthdays tend to be a time of reflection.
As I stuffed my face with movie popcorn, In-N-Out Burger (wrapped in lettuce, at least!) and various other “I’m not supposed to be eating this, but what the hell? It’s my birthday!” fare, I found myself coming back to one thought:
By my next birthday, I want to be in a place where my birthday isn’t an excuse to eat whatever I want.
Mentally and physically, I want to be able to make good decisions … smart decisions … decisions that will fuel me without filling me up (or out).
I don’t want to find myself thinking, “It’s my birthday. Why not eat cake/a burger/french fries/a big-ass burrito from Taco Bell?”
A year from now, I want my birthday “treat” to be something that falls in line with my chosen eating plan. (Something like these Bacon Banana Almond Butter donuts from TGIPaleo, perhaps?)
How do I get to that place? That, of course, is the age-old question. How do I change my attitude toward food? How do I stop using it as a celebration/escape/emotional crutch?
I think I’ll start by re-reading parts of “It Starts With Food.” I may even attempt another Whole30, approaching it from a slightly different standpoint. It’s not like I cheated the first time (except for those few days I ate things not allowed, then started my count over again). But I certainly counted the days until my Whole30 was over so I could have XXXX again (namely my favorite low-carb Frappuccino from Starbucks, but dreams of diet soda crept in there, too).
The good news? I’ve had five diet sodas since I ended my Whole30 (two of them with my birthday double feature) … and three of those five diet sodas didn’t taste as good as they should have. (I didn’t really pay attention to the taste of the other two, quaffed with massive amounts of movie theater popcorn.) Maybe I can give it up for good.
Therapy would probably help, too — if only I could afford it. Since I can’t, I’ll have to content myself with gleaning great advice from fellow bloggers.
One of the best lines I’ve read recently comes from Roni:
There’s no way to stop the yo-yo dieting cycle of hell until you hop off the perfection wagon.
She’s right. I had that problem this past weekend. Every time I ate something not on my diet, I told myself “I’ll get back on track tomorrow” and threw caution to the wind.
Not smart. Not smart at all.
Perhaps by the time I turn 42, I’ll have accumulated enough wisdom to permanently change my relationship with food.