It’s 6 o’clock in the morning and I’m sitting in my pig sty of a house, still stuffed from the overdose of pizza the night before, just pondering the weekend and how I’m going to make it through the rest of this week.
The pig sty is my welcome home gift from the husband and little guy. I bring them t-shirts from Boston and they present a sink full of dishes, plates of food on the kitchen table, more items on the floor of the living room then I can count and a basement loaded with laundry.
Upon my return from any weekend trip, I not only have to rally the troops to get the house in order–which I failed at miserably last night– I must hit the grocery store so that we actually have food in the house all week. I’ve learned from the ghost of weekend’s past that by far grocery shopping is the most important thing to do on a weekend. It’s the only way to ward of–or shall I say REDUCE–the number of times we eat out during the week.
My plane landed around 4PM and I was home by 5. After a quick reunion Little Guy and I headed off to the grocery store together where we stocked up on tons of fresh foods, veggies and a few convenience snack item for our lunches. After spending about an hour at the store I realized there was no way I was going to go home and cook. Not after the day I had.
I woke up at 6AM after a horrible night of sleep. My allergies are in full effect. It’s hard to catch some Z’s when you can only breath out of one nostril. Especially when breathing out of that one nostril causes your throat to feel like it’s been rubbed raw with sand paper. What a crappy way to start the day especially when you are headed out to run a 9k race.
But I sucked it up and ran the race anyway. Which put me in a much better mood. Nothing makes me happier then to wake up and experience the sense of camaraderie and motivation at a running event. Any running event.
So after the 5.77 mile run, I walked the mile back to the hotel, packed up, checked out, navigated the local mass transit and headed to the airport to return home.
I don’t know about you but traveling takes a lot of out me and the last thing I want to do after a day of traveling is cook. Especially in a kitchen that looks as if a bomb exploded.
So succumbing to the husbands request for pizza was a much easier decisions last night then it has ever been.
It’s really not that big of a deal to order a pizza. It really isn’t or at least it shouldn’t be.
I ate 2 pieces for dinner plus little guy’s leftovers and 3 of the husband’s hot wings. Not a big deal right?
Like I said, it’s really not that big of a deal. Until…. after the little guy goes to bed and the husband and I snuggle up on the couch to watch TV. Mr. Leftover Pizza in the fridge starts to call my name.
"Roni…. Roni…. you know I’m in here. What are you going to do, save me until tomorrow. You don’t want to eat me tomorrow. I’ll ruin your day. Just get over hear and finish me off now. You know you want to. You know how good I taste reheated in the oven. Come on. You had a great weekend. you deserve to enjoy me again. I’m totally worth it. I’ll taste great. "
I have learned to ignore Mr. Pizza on the few nights we actually do order but last night he was just too powerful. I heated up the last two slices in the oven and while I waited I devoured a huge peanut butter egg I had leftover in the fridge from Easter. She just simple whispered, "You might as well, you’re already about to ruin your day anyway."
So I do not lie when I say I’m still stuffed from the night before. I woke up with that yucky feeling in my gut that happens when I eat too much too late. I know this feeling all too well. It’s how I woke up every morning in college.
I’d being lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed in myself. I really did have a great weekend. I even kept my food journal on vacation perfectly. I made great choices. I felt fantastic, motivated, energized.
I want that feeling back and the only way to get it is to forgive myself. I know some will think I’m crazy. That I ate what I ate and I shouldn’t feel guilty or ashamed. That those feelings are the bane of the dieters existence. But truth be told, you just can’t shut off your response to certain situations. Instead you can recognize your triggers, avoid them when possible, and forgive yourself when you don’t.
It’s the only way for me and it’s been working quite well these 5 years.
So I’m off to shower for work. I’ll grab my packed lunch and healthy snacks and remind myself that life is and will always be a day by day battle.