Sunday was a disaster. An eating disaster.
We were invited to a friend's house for the Seahawks vs. 49ers game. Great company, even though one of the hosts is a die hard 49ers fan. And the Seahawks lost, but that isn't what the problem was.
The problem was the buffet. Or the problem was me. Take your pick. Wow, there were salty snacks, including a bowl of Chex mix large enough that could have been stored at Fort Knox. There was lasagna - a favorite of mine - and caprese salad, also a favorite. I was in for two servings of the lasagna and at least three of the Chex mix and caprese salad. Then the pizza showed up. I was in for a few slices of that, too. Not to mention the sweets - a bowl of M&Ms that would feed a baseball team, and an even larger bowl of some Crispix-magically-stuffed-with-peanut-butter-and-chocolate-and-coated-with-powdered-sugar concoction, and pop. I returned to all of these stations multiple times. Not good.
Immediately after the football game, we made our way to my son's basketball game, which was followed by an outing to Red Robin. This place is a challenge even if you are on your best behavior, but by this point I wasn't even trying. We had appetizers, followed by a ginormous burger, fries, and fry refills that we didn't ask for, but ate anyway. And while I don't usually sink this low, I must have figured what the heck and ordered the strawberry lemonade. Which automatically becomes more strawberry lemonade until you actively refuse it.
It's probably not a surprise that I felt HORRIBLE the rest of the night and the next day.
But importantly, something snapped in me. It was like the tale of the kid who smokes a cigarette and his dad makes him smoke a whole pack so that they seem repulsive. That's how I feel about all of that food. Repulsed. Sickened.
I swore off the worst offenders. It's been two days and I haven't had a morsel of sweets. Today I went to a Mexican restaurant for lunch with colleagues and skipped the chips for the first time in a long time. Ditto for all junk food the past 48 hours. Often, I eat at night when my wife falls asleep early, but I'm two for two in evenings without eating. I could go on.
My immediate plan when I realized so viscerally how bad junk food makes me feel was to go a year without X, Y, and Z. That'll show 'em! But I've jumped at plans before, only to see them not stick. So I'm trying a little now. But a little thing might just turn into a big thing.
Oh, and for the past 24 hours, I've felt great. Better than any empty calories can make me feel.