I think about food probably about 64% of my waking hours. What will I eat today? When? How much? Is it good for me? When should I have my carbs? When am I going to “cheat”?

It’s not okay.

Two friends/co-workers and I chatted about it this morning and about how it’s not a great way to live. There is a difference between truly enjoying food and then obsessing about the how, when, what, and why of it.

I haven’t even always loved food. As a child I was a notoriously picky eater -albeit a lucky one because I maintain to this day that no one cooks better than my mom. I ate homemade everything. Processed foods were not something found in our home. My dad wouldn’t allow it for the most part because if you can grow it or it can be hunted, they why in the hell would you buy it? This had it’s ups and downs of course (my mother worked her butt off making everything from scratch and managing our three gardens!).

I coveted Kraft Dinner, Oreos, Alphagetti, and basically everything that came pre-packaged and I wasn’t allowed at home.

These needs were lovingly met for me by my grandparents (my mom’s parents, not my dad’s mom – she didn’t believe in that stuff either and cooked primarily with lard.). My other grandma and grandpa were willing to pretty much supply with me the “good stuff”. Ice cream cone cereal? You got it. Zoodles? Yes, you may. McCain Deep ‘n’ Delicious cake? YAS.

Here’s the stupid thing – the stuff I had at home as a kid is the stuff I want now but am too inept/lazy in the kitchen to do! Home made macaroni and cheese, home made bread and buns, home made cakes, cookies, squares…the fact I was a skinny kid is a bit of a miracle because I carb loaded as much and as often as possible. A fresh bun either plain, but still warm, or with home made raspberry jam? YES PLEASE. I literally am drooling a little at the thought.

Now, I’m an adult in charge of my own groceries and meals. Sigh. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I am not the culinary high priestess my mother is. Modified is a good word for skills in the kitchen. I need a recipe and then until I’ve made said recipe roughly 317 times, I don’t mess with it. Spices are a mystery. Also? I don’t particularly enjoy it. I like baking more than I like cooking but I don’t do it a lot because if I bake it? I will eat it.


As some of you may know I am a Beachbody Coach. Meaning I am supposed to have a handle on this stuff. Obviously I know how to meal plan now and what the right portion sizes are and how much of each food group my body needs to function at it’s best. I know these things pretty damn well, in fact. Yet? I gained 10 pounds over the spring/summer because I headed back to carb town. Not just carbs either. Carbs in and of themselves are not evil. You need them for energy. What you don’t need? Is half a box of Corn Pops at 9 pm at night because you took a handful to munch on and pretty soon found yourself half dazed on the floor with Corn Pop dust all over your face and glazed look in your eye – maybe even half dressed.

It’s the sugar. I’m like Frank the Tank in Wedding Crashers and I literally think of him doing the beer bong and his elation when he tastes the beer because “Once it hits your lips it’s so good!” Literally me. I have stopped short of streaking only because the sugar makes me bloated…

So this morning I ate my ‘Fruity Oatmeal Bake’ and coveted the fresh cinnamon buns in the cafeteria. Eyed up anyone who dared eat one in my presence.

Somewhere out there someone is saying to themselves or out loud: “If you want a cinnamon bun, just have a cinnamon bun.” Thanks Tips. Here’s what will happen though – I’ll eat the cinnamon bun and what will unfold next is akin to the slippery slope the boy with the mouse finds himself on in the great fiction work: “If You Give a Mouse a  Cookie.” A cinnamon bun is a like a gateway drug for me at this point.

You know what’s coming too, don’t you? Halloween. I can’t even. I have a box of chips for the trick or treaters and a small bag of chocolate bars. We don’t often get a ton of kids on our street but the box of chips only had 45 bags and I’m terrified of running out so I bought the extra bag of candy to be on the safe side. I bought chips because they aren’t as big of a temptation for me. I will not touch any candy until Monday. I am cheap on top of being a sugar addict (remember yesterday’s post about my anniversary – my husband is a lucky man.). I refuse to spend money on more candy because I ate ours. Except Monday I will open the candy “for the kids”. I will start with one treat. Just a nibble and then by 10 pm Monday night my fingers will be stained orange with Dorito dust and I’ll be mainlining KitKat bars.

The struggle is real.

So what’s a girl to do? Like everything else, keep trying. Keep eating the goddamned oatmeal and greek yogurt, the veggies and lean protein. Drink water until you’re afraid to stand up lest you piss yourself. Enjoy whole grains and treats “in moderation”. Focus on how I feel, look, and not on what I “can’t” have. Oh, and also, and this is for you too, on the days where the cravings get the best of me and/or you? Let that shit go. Nobody is perfect. A cupcake is not evil (but a cinnamon bun might be…).


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