When we were on the road yesterday I actually ate something I haven't eaten in so long that I don't even remember the last time. A Hardee's cheeseburger.
My god, it was good.
And I ate some french fries too.
And honey, the madness stops there.
Despite the fact that we eat fairly healthy around here and I make my own breads with oats and flax and whole wheat and I bake any desserts we have with fruit in them and we eat plenty of vegetables and fruit, and despite the fact that five pounds of sugar can last me for six months or more and despite the fact that we eat all whole wheat pasta and never eat white rice and despite the fact that I haven't drunk a soda in a dog's age and despite the fact that the stop at a fast food restaurant is an almost-never, ever event, we gotta tighten it up around here.
I've gotten lazy. I've given in to my baser instincts and allowed myself the occasional Cuban sandwich, the now-and-then-plate of barbecue, the extra slice of bread with (homemade!) preserves on it. And my body tends to roundness. It wants to be that shape. And honey, it is certainly getting there. And I don't like it.
So. Back to eating closer to the dirt. Time to quit making bread and serving it every night. Time to remember what real, honest food tastes like. Okay. I haven't forgotten THAT. But it's time to tame the beast within who wants the sweet, the salty, the fat, the easy. You know what? You can starve that beast for years but it never really dies. Never. And you give it a little bit of cheese here, a few M&M's there, maybe a handful of Chex Mix or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and the next damn thing you know, you're sitting in Hardee's eating a hamburger with mayonnaise all over your face and you realize that things are definitely, without a doubt, no shame-in-admitting-it, OUT OF CONTROL and the beast not only lives, it is happy, happy, happy and wants a milkshake too.
(No. I did not get a milkshake but Mr. Moon might have. Strawberry. Maybe. But of course, he's still long and lean and so what?)
Okay. Good intentions. Hell is paved with them and so is another twenty pounds. Or, larded with them anyway. But I have them. I need to start paying attention and cooking the way I should be cooking and making food choices based on what I need rather than what I may think I want and so forth.
Sometimes I really wish I was one of those people who drank so much soda that all they had to do to lose weight was give that up. But I'm not.
We shall see, won't we? And right now the garden is good inspiration. We had snow peas and squash and green onions roasted in the oven tonight and quinoa and some baked chicken (not too much) with lemon juice and olive oil and fat free feta cheese on it. And other stuff. You know, herbs and spices. Etc. It was delicious. All of it. And a salad with cucumbers and carrots and sesame seeds and a lovely, plain vinaigrette and no bread. None.
We survived. Nicely.
Hardees will not be seeing me again any time soon. AS GOD IS MY WITNESS!
The beast must die, or at least be starved into submission. I am not going to starve, believe me (I am way too old for that sort of nonsense) but the beast must be.
And of course, because I have eaten pretty cleanly for one whole, entire day, I will wake up tomorrow thinking that I should have lost at least five pounds. Overnight.
Amazing how ridiculous we human beings are, isn't it?
All right. Have a good evening. I think I'm going to eat a yogurt before I go to bed. I'm looking forward to that tremendously. It's been a very fine day and I had fun with my boys, and Jessie and Vergil will be here on Thursday. And there's no doubt I will have lost five pounds by then. At least.
Much love...Ms. Moon