This may as well be a four-letter word for me. My whole life, I have never been a woman who likes things I like in moderation. If something brings me joy, I can’t get enough of it. This goes for things from food to shoes to, um, well, you get the idea.
I’m an emotional person, to be certain, even though I try to live my life in a rational, logical manner, sometimes the adventure gets the best of me. It’s why, at 30, I have no savings, own no home and have no car. And yes, my credit is in the shitter.
Now, I don’t want you to think I’m off spending bill money on cheeseburgers and cute dresses. I still struggle to pay all my bills first, it’s just that, instead of tucking money away when there is some left over, I spend it on items that bring me joy. And this doesn’t mean fancy jewelry or designer jeans. I spend it on dinner with friends or a round of drinks with my ladies.
There’s one moderation that does somehow need to happen and I have yet to be able to figure out how to make it happen. How to lift my finger off the “immediate joy” button and delay gratification.
That is food. Glorious food. If it’s over 200 calories per serving, it’s probably delicious and I want it in my belly. But some group of doctors got together and “discovered” that high fat, high calorie diets will kill you in the end. Also, they will make you the size of a zeppelin. Party poopers.
But, fucking hell, they’re right and it makes me infinitely grouchy to admit it, because that means I have to apply some moderation to what I eat if I don’t want to end up “B-Word” fat. So far, moderation seems to lead to a binge after about 4-5 days. Mind you, this is while I’m suffering through the Wolf (the term my dear beau coined to describe my PMS), so it may be a little extreme.
I started the South Beach Diet last Monday. I ended the South Beach Diet last Thursday. Why? Because I actually started weeping on my way home from work when I started thinking about the horrible, horrible food that awaited me at my apartment. I decided a sandwich was a good alternative to lethargy and depression. I ate my Philly cheesesteak (from Denver Ted’s, highly recommend them!) with a gusto reserved for people that have been stranded on a deserted island with no access to Dharma Initiative rations.
The lesson learned last week: The Wolf is a motherfucking bear and perhaps I should not feel guilty about including whole grains and good sugar into my daily menu.
The problem is, how do I do this while maintaining moderation? I’m trying to work on the moderation thing this week. It helps that I have $2 to my name until Monday, so I’m stuck with eating what I’ve got, but that doesn’t change the fact that I worry quite a bit about metaphorically shoving the whole moderation thing in a high school gym locker where it has to await the merciless bullying of jocks named Steve and Asher. Yeah, my moderation is really small and wussified.
Tell me, oh sage readers, what tips or tricks do you have to help me stay on my path of moderation (with little rewards tucked in here or there, of course)? I love food and I love eating, I don’t ever want to give that up, I just need to learn how to do it in moderation.