Day 2 - Afternoon

Well, first let's start with the morning. About an hour after I ate breakfast I got the sweats and the shakes. That was not fun. My body was firmly protesting its lack of sugar. I knew I had consumed enough calories but ate a small handful of unsalted almonds anyway. Finally, it stopped. I had a meeting to go to and after the meeting I had a lowfat string cheese and a medium honey crisp apple. (BTW, are those not the best apples ever?!)

I was definitely getting hungry around noon. Lunchtime was upon us. This morning I grabbed another Amy's entree out of the freezer at home. It was Indian Mattar Paneer. I've decided not to bore you with the ingredient list but rest assured there was nary a sweetener in sight. I love this frozen meal, actually. I've got to cut down on those and I will tomorrow. (I'm making extra chicken thighs tonight.) I am also having one of my last Diet Pepsis.

So, why am I sugar addicted in the first place? I wish I could tell you. I have a long and painful history with food. I can remember sneaking food as early as probably 10 or 11. I would sneak cookies, chips, ice cream, etc. Our family was lower to mid-middle class and my parents definitely tried to shave items off the budget if at all possible. They didn't (and still don't, actually) have snack foods cluttering up the pantry or refrigerator. What was in our food supply was actually needed for breakfasts, lunches, or dinners. I'm not trying to say we were starving or destitute or even unspoiled children. In fact, we would occasionally be given a candy bar if we should happen to venture out with dad. It's just that my parents didn't keep candy, chips, etc. around. They don't do that even now and it's not due to lack of funds for America's finest snack products. They're just not big snackers. Even as recently as last week I was a food sneaker. I'm trying not to be. It's not a good thing and it has a sense of shame associated with it. Even last week I stopped at McDonald's for a "large value meal #2 with a Diet Coke". I'd eat it on the way to pick up my daughter and then dispose of the refuse without - hopefully - letting my husband or kids know I'd eaten it. As I write this down it seems crazy to me that I did that. After all, I'm a grown woman and I can eat whatever the hell I want to eat. My husband is not some ogre who is obsessed with having a thin wife who doesn't eat McDonald's. Chances are good he probably doesn't care if I eat McDonald's. So why do I do it?

That's a deep question. I think the reasons are many. I have been super stressed out due to work and home transitions over the past couple of months. I always seem to think that eating will help me feel better. Eating will soothe my soul. Perhaps it's be all right if, perhaps, I was eating carrot sticks or apples but chances are more likely I would be eating donuts and Oreos. I also eat to try to fill a hole in me. If my feelings are hurt or upset I want to stuff it full of chocolate or chips or anything, anything in order for me not to have to actually feel that emotion. That is some seriously unhealthy stuff right there.

So. In conjunction with quitting sugar I am trying to get generally more healthy. I am going to blog my journey in the hopes that it will help me get my head straight. And I am going to be painfully honest here. I don't know you; you don't know me. I have no reason to hide and deny mistakes. I'm sure there will be some along the way. But, you know what? I'm tired of being derailed by mistakes. I want to try to learn from them. I want to get back up on that horse and ride it into the sunset.