This is Sue's last guest blog (for now). Gary will be back tomorrow.
Five weeks today. I am celebrating five full weeks of abstinence, as defined by no compulsive eating. Yes, I have tasted a few things outside of my food plan, but that is the key word, tasted. Not compulsively shoveling it in, not mindlessly eating, not overloading my stomach and my system with sugars and carbs.
I ate a cupcake at Brin’s party, and later, a piece of the big cake. Very sweet, delightfully so. It triggered so many compulsions that I couldn’t count, but what I could do was be very, very aware. It was hard to walk away, to not have two or three other pieces. To know that the cake was there, that I could, if I wanted, “sneak” some after everyone was in bed. But then I really heard what these voices, these compulsive disease tools were saying. No, not saying, they were screaming. Wow! In the past I would have easily given in. I would have had a much bigger piece of cake the first time, and then yes, I probably would have eaten more after the lights were out. It took deep breathing, determination, awareness and a re-commitment to abstinence every fifteen minutes or so to keep from lifting that cake plate lid.
The next day I still had a little sugar high, but was able to bring it under control with a balance of protein at breakfast. And I was back on track. Yes, the cake was still there, as were the chips, their oily saltiness calling to me from their Costco-size bag. Turkey roll-ups stocked the fridge (I’m not the only one with scarcity issues; we made enough for twice the number at the party). But we were headed to a seafood feast for dinner, and I saved as much of my food plan for the day as I could.
There is a place in Bellevue called the Crabpot. It’s a restaurant that brings the seafood to you in huge bowls, and dumps it on the paper-draped table in front of you. The cutlery and plates consist of wooden boards, seafood forks, a hammer and a claw cracker. Mixed into the wonderfully steamed and seasoned shrimp, crab legs, mussels and clams are chunks of potatoes, corn-on-the-cob and sliced spicy sausage. Of course, there is the huge loaf of hot French bread and individual cups of melted butter. Sounds like a compulsive over-eater’s heaven. But, it takes work to get the meat out of a crab leg, or to peel the shrimp. It slows down the eating a lot, gives you time to talk and laugh and not just concentrate on shoveling it in. Clams and mussels are very small bites, and what seems like a huge amount of food, when all the shells are thrown back into the bowl conveniently sitting behind you, comes down to a very reasonable amount of food to eat. The half a potato and the few bites of sausage, plus three pieces of corn (adding up to almost a full ear) rounded out the meal, and when I made an accurate count of what I ate, it was really still within my food plan. The whole meal was designed to give the most taste and sensory values (I’ve mentioned that I like eating with my fingers) possible.
So now that I’ve made everyone hungry, which really isn’t the point of the blog, I’ll move on to more mundane things such as an early Thanksgiving dinner. Instead of a whole turkey, we had a small turkey roast, used one box of quick stuffing mix, really good veggies and of course, the requisite mashed potatoes and gravy. As I did the shopping, and then the cooking, the scarcity gene/tool kept creeping in. Was there enough? How could the (now) three of us eat this small amount?
I placed a ½ cup measuring cup next to my plate. It’s amazing how easy it is to be sucked into the big scoops, so I measured carefully. Nice, normal, ½ cup servings of the carb foods, the “deck of cards” of the turkey and fill the plate with veggies. It worked! By the end of the meal, I was truly full.
I am continually surprised when I am successful, especially out of the “controlled” environment of home. But this trip has been a success in every way, from the time with my family and my granddaughter, to the celebration of her birth, to not letting food—preparing, eating or obsessing about it—interfere with the joy of the week.
May you have a blessed and abstinent day. I know mine will be.
Sue
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