Down one pound for a total of 8.6. Still doing it.
So, I sleeze around online and look at other blogs endlessly. Some annoy me, some amuse me and yet others are mysterious to me.
I found one recently that intrigues me. It’s written by a woman who had gastric bypass surgery and is now a fitness nut. She says that when she was heavier she thought about food all the time. Now that she’s thinner and a runner, she can eat what she wants, but her attitude has changed. She thinks of food only as fuel her body needs.
What the what?
She says she no longer gets emotional gratification from food.
I’m not sure if it’s my head not in the right place, or that I have emotional attachments to food or what. I don’t mean that food makes me happy when I eat. Well, it does kinda, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make here!
I look at food as a way to share, a way to give to others so they know I love them, or just plain care enough about them to remember their preferences. Any time we have a get together at our house, I think through the guest list and I try to remember what everyone likes, dislikes and what I've made for them before. No one wants my same shitty white trash lasagna over and over…. But it sure does make a friend feel good when you say, “This doesn't have onions in it because I know you hate them.”
Then there’s the actual sharing of a meal. It’s probably part of my upbringing and my mom’s insistence on a family dinner around the table every night. I still try to do this with my girls every night, and when EN is home on the weekends, the four of us eat together. Sometimes we add friends to the mix, but we’re always talking and laughing through the meal. No one is allowed to bring a phone, toy, iPad or laptop to the table and the TV is not visible. It’s probably the only time that we give each other 100%. Shit. What does that say about us?
So yes, food emotionally gratifies me. I love the interactions we have around the table. I love preparing meals that I know my friends and/or family will enjoy. Just don’t stick your fork on my plate and try to take my food. I WILL stab you.
And I’m about to get some serious gratification out of food… My coworker’s birthday is tomorrow, so we went to lunch today. We started with salad and finished with cheese pizza (5 points per slice, y’all). I’m proud that I stopped at two pieces. I’m going to get serious emotional gratification when I bring the leftovers to “Mr. I am down ten pounds. Isn't that more than what you've lost?”
Whose idea was it to let him play along anyway?