“We’re never satisfied when it comes to food. ‘You know what’d be good on this burger? A ham sandwich.'”
If there was any confusion on how I feel about food, reference back to this quote. Or how about the fact that the two things I remember most about kindergarten were making Play-Doh pizzas and my crush who helped me make them. Even then I thought, this is the life: a man who understands the importance of pizza and helping his lady in the kitchen. My only disappointment was that the pizza was Play-Doh and we had to pretend eat it.
Or maybe the fact that I cannot separate my childhood memories of playing with friends without also recalling with brilliant clarity raiding my childhood friends kitchens and pantries or being invited to their birthday parties where there was cake and more pizza.
Or perhaps how it greatly disturbs me when I watch television shows where the people sort of pretend eat and wave their pizza around for several minutes while talking and then set it down without taking so much as a nibble. That’s good New York pizza, Jennifer Aniston! Put it in your ever-loving mouth, I want to scream! I don’t buy it. Who are these people who talk when pizza is in their hands and why do they exist? I want to slap them, because they don’t deserve to be in a world where pizza is present. I don’t care if it’s television and they’re actors and have to pretend drink coffee, because of all the takes they have to do. Commit to your craft and eat the damn pizza so I feel better about my love of food and not so alone.
I constantly find myself warring between my love of wanting to eat delicious goodies and my other love of wanting to be good and kind to my body by feeding it healthy fare. Sadly sometimes the two don’t intersect. A lot of times they do, but sometimes, a sugar-free, gluten-free, alcohol-free, caffeine-free, meat-free existence just isn’t cutting it. Like today for instance. I packed a homemade tuna salad loaded down with onions, peas, jalapenos, eggs and whole wheat noodles. I also had a side of cucumbers, broccoli and tomatoes with hummus for dipping. For snacks, my bag contained sunflower seeds and a green apple. And though there were peanut butter cookies on my counter this morning, I refrained from bringing any with me to work. I now regret that choice.
I’m almost to a point where eating healthy (about 80% of the time) comes naturally and effortlessly. I don’t feel all that deprived, I happily (sort of) eat popcorn instead of pizza, or an egg-white omelette instead of pancakes and bacon and I fuss very little over it. But the past few days my old food demons have been haunting me. I found myself having fantasies of Famous Amos cookies during work today. I cannot even tell you the last time I ate a Famous Amos cookie or even cared to. They’re not even that good. But every once in awhile I feel so uninterested in my almonds or blueberries and suddenly find myself wanting to have snacks or food that are bad for me simply because they are bad. Like Doritos. I don’t want to say I hate Doritos, because I will eat them if they are around, but I would never buy them or be tempted to buy them. Besides barbecue chips (which I do hate) they are the easiest chips for me to say no to. But because sometimes I just crave a little dosage of rebellion, like dating a guy with tattoos and a motorcycle, I just can’t help myself.
I didn’t eat Doritos today, though I did have two beers after work, followed by habanero shrimp bites, so there was that. It did feel like rebellion and in turn made me feel guilty, but I am almost grateful I did it because it was just “bad” enough to make me want to go back to the nice healthy safeness of my steel-cut oats tomorrow. Like realizing the motorcycle guy is 35 and still lives with his parents. Going bad is never as good as you thought it was going to be anyway.