It was Friday, and I was picking the kids up from my sister in law's, and we started chatting, and she offered me a beer, which I accepted without even thinking. All I was thinking was "it's hot and it's been a long week and a beer would be great". I was about three quarters of the way through when clued in to what I was doing. I finished the beer and confessed to my partner-in-diet and my husband.
I forgot about it shortly after.
It took two days for my gut to forgive me for it. Whoops.
No Such Thing as Comfort FoodBesides the one slip up with the beer, I spent a lot of this second week examining my relationship with food. It made me realize that junk food has always been a source of comfort for me. Had a bad day? You need some chocolate. Something spicy for supper? You need something sweet. Movie night on the couch? You need chips. Heading back to work in the rain? You should get a hot chocolate. Kids driving you nuts? You better shovel food into that mouth. Bored? Eat. Tired? Eat. Stressed? Eat.
The absence of comfort food has made me realize how much I depended on it. Every time I turned around this week, when I would normally turn to something yummy to snack on, my choice was a piece of fruit and some nuts, or a yogurt. It was like expecting a hug and being faced with a brick wall. An apple does not make me happy the way chocolate does. Yogurt is not nearly the late night treat that chips are. I was never hungry in these situations, just needed that dose of food, that comfort, those happy feelings.
Had a bad day? Yes. Hungry? Yes. Hungry enough for another apple? No. Get out of the kitchen then.