Well, yesterday was a cheat day and I know all the pitfalls of cheat days. Or, in the form they’re taking this year, so far, cheat meals. But, for better or worse, trudging across the street to Old Chicago and ordering up every bread-ish, carb-based thing, I think was actually an okay idea. Because I discovered that I don’t really like their pizza. Or their cookie thing. I think I never have, but when you’re in the sugar fog, you don’t really care about things like taste. You just know that you have to stuff yourself with food. And that was the tack for the cheat meal – appetizer, entree, dessert, leave no opportunity for flagrant, unhealthy eating untapped. Because if you do that, then, when the meal is over, you’ll keep thinking about it and justifying more and more. So I ate a lot of carbs for lunch yesterday.
I actually went just about a whole month between them. I told myself it was a calendar thing. One each month so if I had one on the 31st of one, techically I could have the next on the 1st of the other, but I haven’t wanted it. I think the ol’ Crimson Tide came into play and I’d been marathoning the Great British Bake-Off and we had a shit-ton of snow and pizza sounded pretty perfect.
But everything tasted…marginal. Like, oh, yeah, this pizza has always had a pretty tasteless crust. And wow, this garlic bread is oily and that hot cookie thing is so heavy and dry and even the chocolate chips tasted…it was goo, ooze, a sweet, almost burnt tasting glop. It was all really disappointing. I had leftovers, but they stayed on the table. I did think, later, as I was writing yesterday’s lengthy email, that I wouldn’t mind it if I had those leftovers, but it was immediately followed by the feeling that I was glad I didn’t. Glad that I stuck to the rules of the cheat meal and that these after-effects are things that carbs do to me, things I don’t experience while on my low-carb situation. Exhausted, stomach like a fist, unable to focus.
I’m still going to have my monthly cheat meal because I think it helps deflate a desire that builds in me, like it or no, where I have to test the premise. I have to be sure I want to be on this side of things. But I re-opened my My Fitness Pal account and linked it to my fitbit and am going to get tracking my food and drink so that I can get focused on progress again. If my half-sister does decide to have her wedding in England, I want to go, and I want to be the best version of myself not at another event frustrated and wishing I’d just worked on this in these lengthy hours I have to do exactly that.
Yeah, sent the letter off. I have no idea what I’m doing, but it doesn’t matter.