I’ve been thinking about weight and food lately and my relationship with food. Ok, who am I kidding, I spend my life thinking about it.
I know you’re meant to eat to live and not live to eat, but honestly, I’m never going to be a salad and chicken breast only kinda gal. I love chicken skin and pork belly and crackling (with apologies to my Muslim and Jewish and any other non-pork eating friends) and Malva pudding smothered with custard as much as the next heart attack waiting to happen. I started eating meat last year after many years as a non-redmeat-eater and it’s been awesome. I could go on about all the things I love to eat forever.
BUT.
Of late I have listened in to my own internal dialogue after packing on a couple (!!!) of those kilos it took me most of last year to lose. If I sound a bit crazy, ja, well, then there’s that.
Firstly there’s the whole wheat/lactose thing. I cannot eat a sandwich like most people. Ever. My stomach cannot handle all that wheat. So if I feel like something bad I’ll have hot chips.
But on the Hot Chips Day it’s never just the Hot Chips. It’s the burger/cheesegriller/chicken that goes with it, because I need protein you know. And the carbonated drink (another thing my stomach loves) and then, after all that salt I crave something sweet to get it all down.
Do I feel good after having a Hot Chip Buffet? (because let’s face it, it’s never just the chips, it’s a veritable Buffet of Death). NO. I feel like shit. So I top up with some coffee to stay awake.
Enter my other friend, Mr Lactose. Never can I eat an ice-cream or drink Hot Chocolate made with normal milk, my stomach is immediately on fire. On. Fire.
Both my darling friends and stress also like to invite along their friend, Mr 4 Day Stomach Spasm. I’m trying to get out of that abusive relationship, but I find myself back there every now and again and try not to hate myself afterwards.
Secondly, there’s the whole “It’s Holiday/Weekend/Date night I’m going to be bad tonight anyway so let me have a cheat lunch” internal dialogue. I’m trying to train myself not to think like this. It’s hard. I’m trying to view occasions as, well, occasions and not the caution-to-the-wind-3-day-wallow-in-calories-occasions they are at the moment.
Thirdly we have the “Finish all the food on your plate” syndrome. I must be rolling bursting at the seams ready to vomit really full to walk away from food left over on a plate. This is one of the things we also try not to teach the kids. (think of all the hungry kids in Ethiopia..)
Fourthly, I suffer from the “I’m not really enjoying this, but it’s in my hand so I’ll have to eat it” complex. For example, I was eating a piece of droë wors the other night that was so fatty I felt sick just looking at it. I had to force myself to put it down and back away from it. When will I ever learn that if it isn’t nice that I shouldn’t eat it? And that eating it faster to get rid of it will only make it worse.
And fifthly, I would also like to include “half eaten crap the kids no longer want”. You know, the soggy cupcakes sans icing, half-licked lollipops and half-eaten bags of candy floss. I normally make Etienne eat those, but I have been known graze through plates of barely touched pieces of cake at parties where all 3 our kids have been. See point above about the children in Ethiopia.
I’ve made a deal with myself: stay moving, eat healthy, have occasions, don’t berate yourself or hate yourself and if it aint nice don’t eat it.
How is your relationship with food?
What lessons have you had to learn?
