Food is food is food

Today I ate a pop tart.

And it was grand!!

Ever since I got back on the recovery wagon I make sure that I'm never really hungry.  I carry fruit or some other form of food with me to make sure that I don't panic about what or when I'm going to eat.

Today I had breakfast around 9:00 am, then a snack of watermelon and wheat thins around 1:00 pm, and by 2:00 I was going to go to the gym.  I figured I didn't need a piece of fruit to take with me because I was going to go to the gym and I wasn't at all hungry. I'd just eat after the gym.  Well, I actually ended up leaving around 2:50 and I had to run some errands before the gym.

By the time I got to the gym it was 3:45 and I was full on STARVING!!  I started cursing myself for not grabbing a low-calorie snack of some kind to eat before the gym.  And I actually turned my car around to go home to grab something that I deemed "healthy/low cal/non-guilt".  But something in me, I'm gonna call it my ED-Rambo, did a swift roundhouse kick to my brain and knocked the non-sense out of me.

I was going to drive 15 minutes home and 15 minutes back to the gym just to grab a nectarine???  WTF, Yasi?!!

So, I decided to attempt to be normal--drive straight to the gym and get something out of the vending machine.

Now, there are a few questions:

1.  Why would you have a vending machine full of chips and cookies at the gym?  Why isn't there a healthier option?
2.  Would I dare eat one of those 'unhealthy' options?  Was I desperate enough?  Was I brave enough?

The answers are:

1.  Blame BP.  Because they deserve it.
2.  Yes, I dared to eat snack food out of a venting machine because food is food is FOOD.  It is fuel.  I wasn't going to let myself go hungry and pass out on the treadmill.  Yes, it's 400 calories and not very nutritionally dense, but I could easily burn it at the gym.

So, I opted for a cinnamon and brown sugar pop tart.  I sat at a little lounging table in my gym clothes and very excitedly ate my vending machine food.  It.was.THRILLING.  I felt like I was doing something wrong and dirty in front of everyone.  I was a BADASS.

However, that doesn't mean that I didn't feel guilty afterwards.  I did.  I thought about that pop tart and the fact that I just willingly ate it.  But you know what?  What counts is that I DID eat it.  I took control of my body's cues and fed it fuel.  Because food is food is food.

I feel like I just ran a 5K under my usual time.  I feel like I accomplished something-- by eating a pop tart.

Ohhhh man, writing about recovery is hilarious (sometimes)!

=)