Food and Me. I'm Thinking a Fall Wedding...

I was surfing the internet recently when I came across a format for keeping a food diary. It’s an idea that’s always intrigued me because I really have no idea what I put in my mouth during the course of any given day. There wouldn’t be any excuses, I couldn’t explain away that extra half a sandwich or just pretend it never happened. It would all be right there, in black and white. Terrifying.

My relationship with food is somewhat unnatural. I have never understood those little skinny girls that claim to “forget to eat.” Really? So that gnawing pain in your gut didn’t tip you off that you might be hungry? Let’s get real. No one forgets to eat on a regular basis. It’s a just a convenient excuse for you to explain away those size zeros without disclosing your incredibly dangerous eating habits. I’m exactly the opposite. I convince myself that handful of chips didn’t count because I was looking for some lunch when I ate them. They weren’t on a plate, so it wasn’t actual eating. Food comforts me and excites me. As much as I like to drink (that’s a totally different blog), food is my drug of choice. I’m beginning to realize that as much as I love it, it might be best if we started seeing other people. You know, before I start wearing sweat pants not just out in public, but exclusively.

So. The food diary. I guess the whole point is to see how many calories you’re consuming in addition to acting as sort of a determent since writing it down would make it real. So here we go. I wake up and go into the bathroom to brush my teeth. During this normally routine act, one of my cats decides that my bare leg is a scratching post and I accidentally swallow some toothpaste. Does toothpaste have calories? Do I need to write this down? It’s not a normal occurrence; usually I’m really good at brushing my teeth. I make my way into the kitchen and make my coffee. I splash in some flavored creamer and a spoon of sugar. I put an Eggo in the toaster. When it pops up I smear some peanut butter on the hot waffle and take it, my coffee, and my food diary and sit in front of my computer. I start to write down what I’ve had so far, and it looks something like this:



Yeah, I licked it, and I did a little dance too.



Midway through trying to find out how many calories are in a “smear,” I realize that I’m on my third cup of coffee and I did not enter it into the diary. Apparently I would have to measure stuff if I were to effectively do this. I say, “would” because I have no intention of actually doing that. I’m not turning food into a chore. Maybe I’ll just stop eating while I’m deciding what I want to eat. That will probably help a little. Now where’s my drawstring pants? No the really comfortable ones with the knot set on “lounge?”