Today at the grocery store, they were giving out free samples. A LOT of free samples. Nothing I could eat and stay on plan. At the end of every aisle there was a sample table. I was doing okay until I got to the table with little scoops of FREE ice cream. Not just any ice cream, but a premium ice cream in my favorite flavor: chocolate peanut butter. Well that sucked, but I walked by. I didn't crave or want it and I had no problem leaving it alone, but it set me on edge with those "dammit, I just want to eat ice cream instead of salad!" thoughts. Then in the next aisle they had cracker sandwiches with bacon cheese spread in the middle. I almost cussed in my head. I was fine. I didn't even really WANT one. I didn't crave it, my mouth didn't water (unlike the past, when I have been struggling and not firmly on plan/low carb, it has been HARD and I had to fight myself to get away from it.) This time, it was just thoughts. The whole way through the store I was thinking about how if I could get away with it, I would eat junk food all day every day. In the car on the way home, I was thinking how maybe when I get all the weight off I could find a way to eat 1200 calories a day of crackers and ice cream and not regain (of course I know THAT is not possible for me, because there IS no 1200 calories of junk for me. There is only 3000+ calories of junk!) I even glanced at McDonald's on the way home, where I have not gone in more than a year and a half, and imagined how "nice" a cheeseburger would be. Yuck! I don't even want that anymore! Yet there is this 'food memory' in my head that pops out and reminds me of how "nice" it used to be to eat whatever I craved, in whatever quantity I desired. It is very, very important to remember that the consequences of those actions were far from "nice." Heart palpitations lying on a metal table in the ER, hobbling across the beach to tell my kids we needed to leave because my knees hurt, knocking things off shelves with my ample hips in a store sending glass crashing to the ground, waking up choking on my own reflux-vomit at night, trying to hide the huge holes between the thighs of the black stretch pants I had to wear, huffing and puffing after my toddler as she darted dangerously close to a street and depending on a stranger to grab her for me, breaking a chair at a baseball game, sitting on the sidelines of life... all not "nice." Not the life I want anymore. It horrifies me that I lived that way and almost, ALMOST *stayed* that way... had I not started this blog in 2007 and taken control. I would still BE there. It truly horrifies me how close I came to not choosing this path.
Those stupid cheese crackers? They look good. I want some. Heck I want a whole box. But I want my LIFE more.
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