That was me falling off the health wagon. I made a nice splat.
Interjecting here to say that I just read this and whilst it might not seem to be strictly about food and all that, it really is about the process of becoming not only healthier, but closer to the person that I want to be, which can only be a good thing. If I do not change some of the other stuff in my life, then just eating well, exercising (yes, I intend to do more than think about that...eventually) is not going to mean anything. Have to work on being healthier in body, heart, soul, spirit and in relationship all at the same time.
Lunch: Salad, lemon wedges for dressing; scallops, broiled, 6; baked potato, butter & sour cream, ate half; fresh roll, ate half, with butter; grilled vegetables, ate all; 6 oz. glass of wine, yep, all of it, approx. 1 cup creamed rice and chicken soup, sigh, all of it, with lemon.
Dinner: 2 ears of corn, butter, salt
In my defense, if you spread out everything that I ate for lunch over the entire 24 hours of today, it does not seem so bad.
This friend is the one from yesterday. Last evening's phone conversation went well and then today's conversations went all to hell. It is like a toddler testing you. She gets all agree-y and then goes back full force and then some.
So, anyway. I pick her up and she immediately begins with the weird stories, which I love by the way. She either has known everyone on the North American continent, or reads enough of the tabloids to know just enough about everyone famous or infamous to weave stories about them. I quail to know what she would know if she had computer access. Past chats have included surprisingly intimate details about the Macy dynasty (or any other large, industrial or business enterprise) and all of their paramours and extended families, the movers and shakers on the entire Eastern seaboard and most of the
Oh, and there are those stories that she keeps telling me about some diet doctor who was killed by his mistress, who was sent to jail and my friend just happened to be her cell-mate. All right, I am making up the part about the cell-mate, but the story is very long and detailed about all kinds of other stuff about those people, whoever the heck they are.
It just occurs to me that she does not seem to know anyone or about anyone west of the Mississippi. Ooooh, that was fun to type!
Big Picture-wise, none of this matters. Really. Except that she keeps asking for my opinion about what one of these famous people did and when I eventually am forced to reply, she brings in some other information that nullifies my opinion, you know, like it really matters anyway, but it is tiring to constantly be told that I am wrong about everything.
So, I keep asking myself why I spend time with her and it is because I like her and most of the time her stories, true or not, are amusing, but only if I manage to avoid replying. So, for the past month or so, whenever she mentions anyone or anything I just say that I know nothing about who or what that person or thing is. She then throws up her hands, literally, and says something like, "Oh, why am I asking you, why would I think that you would know anything." I just smile and offer her a french fry. It is mostly working.
Except for today. Today she would not be denied. I kept smililng and she kept insisting and I had trouble not letting any giggles leak out. But, by the time our waitress finally came over, I was worn down sufficiently so that I ordered a meal like the ones I used to order before I decided to get healthyier. Alrighty, let me be honest and rephrase that...before I decided to get healthy. Yes, it is true. I have no backbone or will power.
This is a small family restaurant, where you can order just about anything, but they have these meal things that include appetizer (like salad or soup course), entree, sides, wonderful homemade breads, dessert and wine. I ordered. Whilst I always refuse the alcohol, I asked for a glass of red today. My friend asked me if I would drink her wine, I said "no." She asked if I would eat her soup, I said "no." She asked if I would eat her dessert. I said, "No." So, she ordered soup, wine and dessert right away, and then told the waitress all of the other things that she did not want, finally ordering the lamb.
I ordered my favorite. I got the most wonderful scallops, perfectly broiled, which she criticized because they were not brown enough on one side, her lamb because it was too salty, her soup because she forgot between the time she ordered and when it was brought to the table that it was a cream soup and it was too salty, and on and on. I called the waitress over, asked her to bring a bowl of the other soup for my friend and to put it on my bill. It is a tiny place, with excellent accoustics and she patted me on the shoulder before she dashed off to bring the other soup.
The entire meal was complaints and stories and more complaints. I ate every morsel of my meal, which was very healthy, by the way, but should really be a meal and some taken home for a light dinner or breakfast. I did not lick the plates, but I did think about it. I drank my entire glass of wine. I ate nearly an entire roll. I ate the scorned cream soup, which was amazing, especially when drizzled with the fresh lemon our sweet waitress brough for me when she saw me eating it. I ate nearly half of my baked potato. It had butter and sour cream on it; not a lot, but it should have had none. I ate my entire salad, very healthy, lemon instead of salad dressing. I did leave something, though, a 75% tip. Well, she earned it.
However, since I have been eating so reasonably this past week, it was way to much, which I would have realized had I been eating more slowly, you know, like a normal person.
I was exhausted. Can you deplete your adrenals in an hour? Even if you cannot, I think that I did. At least I declined dessert, although I am kind of wanting it right now. Alas.
I also had an upset stomach from eating all of that stuff and barely made it to the restroom, where I left most of it behind. Literally and metaphorically. Was not so funny then, but it makes me laugh now.
My friend wanted to go to the mall. I declined, but had earlier agreed to take her grocery shopping and we did that. An hour and a half later, we loaded the car and started for home. She wanted to go out for coffee, which she kept talking about all day, saying that she could not have any because her doctor put her on a special diet. I declined, reminding her that we both had fresh meat that needed to be refrigerated soon enough. The ride to her house was punctuated by her thoughts that it really was not that warm out and that raw meat could be left out for hours without danger. I kept driving.
Today's lessons are many.
Do not think that you have learned or relearned something about how you want to be in relationship with someone, because you might be closer, but you are not fully there and the Universe will bring you back to that lesson as many times as is needed.
It is in your best interest to not use food to self-medicate unpleasant feelings or uncomfortable interpersonal issues away. If you do, you have to buy a bottle of Imodium and take some right away so that you can finish shopping for groceries.
If you are already feeling like crap, allowing yourself to get all tense about anything is not going to help you feel better. Even when you try to make it appear that you are playing 'nice', if you really do not have your heart in it, the other person might never notice or know, but you will and you will feel guilty and ashamed for not being your best self. Although, acting all nice and everything is certainly preferable to acting as bitchy as you feel. Truth be told, acting like a nice person is never a wasted effort.
Sometimes you just have to accept someone for who they are and get over yourself. And, that means accepting the other person. You can accept yourself for who you are, but that sounds like a very bad habit in which to indulge; it is much better to try to be a better person.
I cannot tell if I feel better, infection-wise, or not. I guess that is a good thing, though.
And, speaking of guilt, another pleasure for the day: