I did something last night that I’ve not done since the middle of June last year. I ate something that I didn’t want to eat so that someone else wouldn’t feel badly for eating it.
I’m not going to dwell on it, I’m just going to get back on track today.
We had dinner with my parents. I’m not sure why I called them, because I know my mom is trying to do the same program I’m doing, but we hadn’t seen them in a while and I was tired (I actually took a nap in the afternoon) and on auto-pilot.
We met at their usual joint, which happens to be Italian food, so non-pasta options are limited, but available. I had a salad and sauteed calamari, plus a few bites of pasta from my dad and husband. I had a piece of bread, too, but while that probably put me over my calorie goal for the day, it wasn’t an alarming overage.
My mother, however, ordered a piece of Italian cream cake for dessert. She kind of looked at me in a challenging way when she ordered it, which felt like her daring me to say something. She pretty defiantly told us, in fact, that SHE was ordering the cream cake, and the ‘whether you like it or not’ was implied. It was weird.
I didn’t say anything. I am not here to police anyone else’s food choices. I can only control what I eat, not what anyone else eats.
Yet, when that cake came, I dove in. I’m a cake person, but a chocolate cake person. I don’t really love Italian cream cake. It would have been easy to avoid, but I didn’t.
I had kind of a weird out-of-body experience while I was eating it, watching myself and carrying on a conversation about why I was eating it.
I kept thinking that we’ve estimated in class that each bite of a dessert probably has about 50 calories, so I may have eaten 400-500 calories of cake, after a day when I carefully tracked all of my vegetables, protein, fruit, and yogurt. Damn.
I realized that my mom and I were doing most of the eating, with my husband eating a bit and my dad never even picking up his fork.
I know that eating that cake won’t stall me too much. I’m exercising almost daily, burning 250-350 calories per workout, and I’m doing pretty well overall as far as eating a balanced mixed of foods that fuel me but don’t weigh me down.
Still, I’m ashamed to admit that I didn’t get on the scale this morning. I’m facing up to my slip by writing about it here, now.
I could tell that my mom was feeling overwhelmed and defeated—wine and cake undo the good that comes from eating steamed broccoli and sauteed calamari for dinner—and I didn’t want to sit there and watch her eat the cake alone.
I think I better go back to not eating with my mom.