I left this blog last week stating that I wouldn’t be posting for two days, but promising to be back to it after my weekend at the beach. I also promised not to eat too much.
These, of course, were more promises to myself than to anyone else. And I broke them both.
What I’ve learned is that I just simply don’t do well when I travel and I don’t do well when I give myself permission to not track what I eat. This is especially true when there are certain foods in my face. In this case, it was Oreos, granola bars, muffins, cheese and Triscuits and Doritos. I ate entirely too much of all of it and I’m kicking myself.
And I was left after my weekend feeling too tired to move, which means I haven’t exercised since I ran the 5K Saturday night (well, mostly walked — see the above reference to overeating and add in ridiculously hot and humid conditions and blisters forming on the bottom of my left foot). But I did complete it, and considering I walked more than a mile of it and finished in 35:54, I didn’t do too terribly.
I want to say that this weekend, I’ll be right back on the wagon, but I’m going out of town again next week and I know what that means. I need to figure out how to get a grip on that. I need to learn that just because it tastes good doesn’t mean I have to eat it all.
I’ve read several places recently that French women stay slim because they’ve learned that the last bites do not taste nearly as good as the first, so they only have a few bites of whatever they may be eating. We’re all supposed to learn from that and stop eating because it doesn’t taste as good. The problem is, for me that just is not true. If I enjoy the taste of the first bite of something, I enjoy the last bite just as much — no matter what it is. I don’t eat because I feel sad, happy, bored, whatever. I eat for two reasons: First because I’m hungry; second because it tastes good. I rarely put that first bite in my mouth for any reason other than hunger. It’s the taste that keeps me going.
And because I spent so much of my life able to eat anything I wanted and as much as I wanted, I often convince myself that I can still do that. Somewhere in my mind, there’s a switch that hasn’t. I don’t know what to do about that.
I’m frustrated. From my highest ever weight, I lost 34 pounds. I’ve regained over the last three years 18 of that. I don’t want to regain any more. I want to lose it again, and then some. I need strength and willpower.
Can that be given?
A couple weeks ago, I had to fly to Buffalo at the last minute for my great aunt’s funeral. Since it was so last-minute (funerals usually are), I used passes and flew standby because it was cheap and at the time I decided to go, there were plenty of empty seats going up and coming back.
Cheap turned into a 37-hour “adventure” in trying to get home. Twenty-one of those hours, I sat in three different airports, the last being eight hours in Charlotte, North Carolina.
Airport food is not generally diet friendly, but I suppose if one had determination, one could eat well in an airport. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to bother, so I ate the things I never eat.
In Buffalo, I got a slice of cheesecake. In Charlotte, a Cinnabon.
The cheesecake wasn’t very good, but I chalked that up to it just not being a good slice of cheesecake. I’ve had an ongoing love affair with that particular dessert since I was a little girl and we would go to dinner at my grandmother’s (or great-grandmother’s or great-grandfather’s — I’m not really sure whose) cousin’s restaurant in Buffalo. I have no idea what I actually ate there for dinner, but it was my introduction to Shirley Temples and cheesecake.
My relationship with Cinnabon began much later. It must have been around 1990 or 1991 when The Walden Galleria Mall opened in Cheektowaga. I didn’t live in Buffalo then, but we visited often and of course had to check out the giant shopping center. Inside was the first Cinnabon I ever saw or even heard of. The humongous cinnamon buns made with an entire pound of butter made my mouth water just thinking of them. At the time, I remember thinking I quite possibly died and went to heaven. Until that Cinnabon disappeared from the Galleria, we went there every time we visited Buffalo and ate at least one roll. I think I probably had two or three in a sitting at one point (ironically, I was about 20 pounds soaking wet at the time. Well, that’s an exaggeration, but you know what I mean.).
Now there are Cinnabons everywhere, including every New York Thruway rest stop and in my local mall. Walking through that food court has been torture for the last four years because one Cinnabon is probably about 24 Weight Watchers points. Or more, possibly. I can’t remember. I did look it up once, and I know it was a lot. So I haven’t had one in many, many years.
During my layover in Charlotte, I broke down and bought one. I carried it back to the gate where I hoped to catch the next plane out to Tallahassee, settled into a very uncomfortable seat and commenced eating my long-avoided prize.
And it wasn’t good. Not at all.
I thought maybe Cinnabon changed the way it makes its cinnamon rolls, but I’ve been paying attention to what foods I want lately and how sweets taste to me and I’m realizing that I think my mortal enemy, my untamable sweet tooth, is fading.
It’s not gone. But it’s not the monster it used to be.
I had dinner last night with friends and brought cheesecake for dessert. It was good. I even ate more than I should have, mostly because I felt like I should because I rarely have it and I do love it so much. But the thing is, I didn’t love it so much. It tasted good, but not great. After I ate a slice, I really didn’t want anymore.
I made chocolate chip banana bread a few weeks ago. I used to not be able to have it in my house without eating two or three slices (smeared with peanut butter) a day. But I just finished half a loaf and another is still in my freezer and it’s been there for three weeks. I’m OK with that.
I don’t know if my taste changed on its own or if it’s because I have controlled my environment well enough and long enough to get the sugar bug out of my body, but whatever the reason, I’m not going to complain.
Just don’t bring anything key lime to my house. I still have my weaknesses.