SKINNY WINDOW
We have a skinny window. One of our sliders reflects back an image of one’s self that is delightfully…thinner. I look just great! Big Smile. One step to the right and the other half of that slider is saying Nope! It’s a rude awakening every time, but I keep doing it. I just can’t resist.
Ah, to be skinny! That was the word when I was a kid, back in the ‘70s. Skinny equals pretty. Fat equals ugly. That isn’t a universal truth, but it’s hard not to think it is. Who hasn’t walked by Victoria’s Secret in the mall and silently cursed those perfect bodies? No fat girls in lingerie; it ruins the fantasy. All those nubile, pouty-mouthed angels are skinny as hell, and airbrushed to perfection. Hard to measure up.
On the other hand, everybody poops. Puts things in perspective.
I went to a family reunion yesterday for my husband’s side of the family. Wonderful people, a beautiful day, and it felt really good to be there. It was a clambake, so I ate fish, potatoes, a few bites of corn on-the-cob, two forkfuls of Uncle Bill’s birthday cake and a half a cookie. I remember eating the potatoes with a surfeit of butter, the whole time saying I shouldn’t be eating the potatoes. My husband got cake, and I said Give me some in what was probably an alarmingly threatening tone of voice, and I ate it off the fork with the same desperate need as the sparrow babies reaching for mama in their nest on my patio. The rest of the time I was painfully aware of the dessert table to my back, its electro-magnetic waves pounding into me, a subtle dark chanting in the air demanding my attention and obedience. I ate part of the cookie (ironically the same kind as at the reception the other night, with the Hershey Kiss in the middle) and after the first bite I remembered it has peanut butter in it. So I rescued the kiss off the top and ate it so fast I completely forgot to enjoy it. Chocolate unappreciated is frankly worse than no chocolate at all. As soon as I swallowed it, I said what have I done? Like a shooting star, but I was blinking when it happened and missed the whole thing.
Why does food have such an allure? If you’ve eaten it before, you know what it tastes like. You don’t need to have it again. But then there’s the event protocol. It’s an event. No need to follow the rules, just this once. It’s a special occasion. I can come up with a million reasons to do something if I want to do that something. Good, cogent reasons. But so often after just one small indulgence, a little something the next time seems okay, and before you know it you’ve eaten your way through a half a casserole. And then it’s back to the signboard in your head: This construction site has operated "O" days without an injury. You’re back to square one.
So this time I’m attempting to take little, reasonable breaks. I stopped counting calories over a week ago. It’s soooooooooo tedious. Instead, I’ve decided to restrict myself to only certain types of foods, and I’m trying not to have large portions or seconds. Trying. And so far it seems to be working. Last Friday was a whole ten days without a dessert, so I decided it was time for an ice cream cone. I got a small soft serve (which was by no means small) and ended up eating less than half of it. It’s like the flavor went right out of it as my mind calculated the calories and what it would do to my blood sugar. Oh, I have no illusions, if it had been straight up double-chocolate on an old fashioned sugar cone, I would have wolfed down the whole thing. With extreme unction.
So I’ve discovered that buying things you don’t like that much is a good way to not eat. I got Chips Ahoy for dessert tonight; I don’t like them, so I won’t eat them. But the family, who have been making some pretty neat sacrifices for me, loves them, so they get to enjoy and I won’t even be tempted. Everybody wins.
And how often does that happen?
