Pork, Beans and Hot Dogs

Growing up in the 1960's and 1970's (mainly in rural Wyoming and small towns in Utah/Idaho) my Mom had quite the "unconventional" childhood.  I've always loved hearing her talk about her life (she probably regrets telling me a good majority of the things I've heard). As a result, I've tried to make an effort to stash each story into my mental filing cabinet for future use.

I fell like this next story might be a little abstract (I'm probably giving Picasso a run for his money), but bear with me, I promise it will all somewhat make sense in the end...hopefully...

High school sweethearts, Mom and Dad

My Grandma Kathy once read an article that stated mothers should try to give their families a variety of food items from one food group at every meal. A short time later, her family woke up to a breakfast smorgasbord of mixed proteins (hence the pork, beans and hot dogs post title). This was definitely not a traditional (or appetizing) American breakfast that consisted of classic meat staples such as bacon or sausage like the "Joneses" might have had.

Needless to say, my Mom still cringes at the combination whenever she recollects this "memorable" childhood experience.

I guess variety is a concept that I frequently abuse. I tend to eat a meal  and then graze around the rest of the kitchen "sampling" everything else along the way. This morning I had my typical breakfast of cereal, fruit, and milk. However, after I was officially done eating, I kept reaching into the box for more cereal. Then I progressed to having milk with the cereal, then maple syrup (don't even ask), more fruit, spaghetti (...), two leftover egg rolls from China Wok (with sweet n' sour sauce), half a brownie, graham crackers with chocolate chips, frozen bananas....and then I realized what I had just done to myself.  It was a breakfast that was probably comparable to the pork, bean and hot dog meal that my mother had to endure.

Both of which were not appealing or easy to keep down.

Originally, I thought I could do this and be satisfied by just having one bite of each thing I wanted to try and then go along my merry way as if nothing had ever happened.

 A word to the wise: It's never just one bite.
(Actually, I've heard that even for an extremely well-managed eater, it takes at least three bites to satisfy their cravings)

So why did I let this happen?
Well, there was definitely a degree of laziness and irresponsibility on my part. I let it happen and I didn't stop when I started to notice what I had allowed myself to do.

It felt like matter over mind, not mind over matter.

Stress also played a huge part in this fiasco too. I couldn't stop thinking about my homework I needed to finish, plus the areas of my house I needed to clean for our Easter dinner tomorrow and how to act on that double date tonight. I realize that these all must sound like ignorant justifications for my actions and they probably are. I know what I'm capable of doing and overcoming. The issue is that once I start with food, I seriously can't stop. The urge to eat consumes every fiber of my being once I let it in.

It's not that I don't comprehend the consequences of my actions or realize the end results; I actually realize them all too well. The nausea, the pain, the depression and disappointment. The high blood sugar readings and the lowered self-esteem. It's impossible to describe how well I know what I'm potentially getting myself into each time I sit down at a meal. It's terrifying.

Some days I feel like I'm only a step away from overcoming this disorder, that I've finally found my "cure"; but days like today always give me a harsh reality check. I again realize just how long of a road this is going to be.  I realize that only I can control what I do and don't eat.

It's been said that variety is the very spice of life.

My opinion?
Just make sure you don't treat it like an all-you-can-eat buffet.

No comments