100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 36

Breakfast:  Drive-through sandwich, large coffee
Lunch:  Indian restaurant
Dinner:  Pringles, diet cola

Well, at least I ate breakfast this morning.

I wish that I could just lie, at least to myself, about how this is going.  I mean, these recent fails are a sort of lie anyway, about how I really do not have a commitment to becoming healthier and am fully invested in simply eating any damn thing that I feel like eating, so, really, why not just go all the way and admit that I cannot do this long term and that I have fallen completely off of the healthy eating wagon, the horses wandered off, looking for a better caretaker and then I forgot where I left the wagon and when I went back, it was gone.

In the moment, breakfast was a slip because I had to leave the house early and was not able to cook because one cannot cook or make any noise or odors that early in the morning.  One is simply not allowed.  I know that.  I should have planned ahead with something great that I could just grab and go on my way.  I did not.  This slacker did not plan ahead and, whilst I did choose an egg sandwich instead of a pastry, it still counts as a fail.

Lunch was after the gun show, and my daughter's choice.  The babies are adventurous eaters.  We have taken them to enjoy every kind of cuisine (they especially like the African place, where the owner takes them to the little sofa they have there and they watch soccer with him), except Indian, but that is only because there are none in the areas where either of us live, so it is kind of a non-issue with which to begin.  My son-in-law is a basic, no-frills guy when it comes to food, although he has been a good sport about at least trying most of what we make or bring home.

So, when the boys went off to the car show, she wanted Indian and we drove to one that we like from the good, old days when she was still single and unencumbered by familial responsibilities.  She rarely gets to do fun stuff by herself, so when an opportunity like this presents itself, I will do whatever I can to provide all the things she likes.  It is nice to indulge her, even spoil her a bit, and I think that every mother feels like this about her grown children.

So, anyway, this place has the best Indian food ever.  So far, so good, but I forgot that they also have a buffet that elevates their regular menu into the stratosphere.  It is that good.  I used restraint and took just a dab or so of the things I like the best, but it was still a lot.  In the old days I would have gone back several times, even after having loaded my plate (which are huge here, by the way) the first go-round.  But, I did not do that, I took small bits and only went back for some carrot stuff, that mango/cheese/semolina stuff and goat. 

I love goat.  I love them when they are sweet, little creatures, just babies, leaping and playing and I love them when they are grown into sweet, big creatures, all dreamy eyed and inclined to snuggle.  And, I clearly love them slowly braised, on the bone and in a spicy sauce.  The African place also has goat on the menu, although they roast it.  Any way, anywhere, I adore it and I had two decent sized portions.  It was already too much food, but I still went back for onion chutney, coconut chutney and freshly made mango ice cream, or what passes for ice cream there, and which is much better than regular ice cream.  Always.

I knew that I was eating too much and I barely made a token effort to stop, and then ignored it and ate.  The past week has been a nightmare of not taking this seriously and not doing anything serious about getting back to taking this seriously.  And, you know, I can feel the energy and determination that I held when I began this.  It seems that I am not willing to do that anymore.  I am caving under the stresses here and, really, that all just boils down to making more excuses, particularly in the face of how pleasant today was, how much enjoyment I had simply being out and about with my daughter, starting the day at their church and playing with the boys in between all of the coming and going.

I love all of them so much and want to be around for a long time and losing this weight is an essential part of everything.  But, I am not doing it, and it must be because I really do not love them or myself enough to stop being such a slug, slacker and loser, and taking the easy way when I absolutely know that that has not worked in the past and has no possibility of working anytime, ever.  I cannot even talk or write about how I am feeling, it is too bitter.  Maybe spewing here will help me get rid of it and move forward.  Maybe.  I am not holding much hope, though.

I was thinking earlier that there might be a possibility that I am doing too much with the eating better and getting rid of stuff, but that cannot be it.  It all needs to be done and I am ready to do it.  But, the food, man, the damn food holds so much significance for me.  It is like the only manifestation of caring or support or pleasure or some damn thing.  I am a fully adult woman and there is not any reason why I am willing to hold myself back from being healthier and more fit.  Except, because I am failing at this, there is a reason in here somewhere and I am either clueless or unwilling to see what it is.

My intention is to get back to my original intention and to do it tomorrow.  In this moment, it seems so clear and easy.  All I have to do is to do it.  The healthy food is here, in the house, and all I have to do is to eat it.  Maybe I have to impose a, what...a rule or something...O.K., a rule that I will eat only what I prepare and that if I mess up and do not plan ahead that I simply cannot eat out, no matter what the reason.  I am sitting here and I have the intention, I have the desire and the will to do this.  Hell, if I could give up all that stuff last year and continue to keep divesting stuff now, I can do this.  I can.  I have to.  I am so lucky, so fortunate, have such a privileged life and I am just mucking it up.  There is no excuse for any of this.

Freaking GP, I do not deserve to have any pleasures, most especially any guilty ones.  But, I do and I am not giving them up, too.  Freaking hearts.