There was a point in my life where I enjoyed eating. It was a long time age.
I’d workout, then devour a pizza – or bucket of Popeye’s friend chicken and french fries – and was no worse for wear.
My body would cycle through it and I’d be on to the next great meal within a few hours.
Now I can’t get within block of Popeye’s without suffering withdrawal symptoms.
I know that the days of eating like that are long gone no matter how much the cravings scrape away at my resolve.
At this writing food is fuel and nothing more. Sad, I know.
I get up in the mornings to write and completely forget about eating, until I start losing consciousness from low blood sugar and am then forced to head to the kitchen.
I consume 6 egg whites, a bowl of oatmeal with a banana in it, and a glass of water marinated in lemon juice.
Needless to say, the last place I want to be is in the kitchen.
If I could pop a pill and be done with it i wpould, but I can’t, so this is what I’m left with.
Lunch is the same: Salmon over greens and an iced tea.
Totally sucks. Horrible.
What I really want is a thin crust pizza with cheddar, ground beef and onions.
This vision sits in my head as I eat what I know is better for me, what will make me look and feel better … and maybe keep me alive longer – or better.
Now we come to dinner, and it’s usually sitting in glass Tupperware containers in the fridge: Pre-prepared foods from Sunday, when we cook things I hate for 5 hours.
But here’s a little secret: I still manage to cheat!
After dinner I get to enjoy a fruit Popsicle.
But it gets better!
Before bed, I prepare a bowl of frozen organic fruit with a small slice of low fat cheese and a few pita chips!!! Awesome!
This is what life is like for those of us who have had to convince ourselves that eating healthy is about how it makes one feel rather than how it tastes.
Hopefully, most come to a place of peace about this.
I haven’t.
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I found this amusing in light of the above…