I was running late (which is running normal) for me this morning, so I had to ditch my initial breakfast plan of oatmeal with Nutella and instead slapped together a PB&J (crunchy peanut butter with strawberry-rhubarb jam on whole grain.) I eat a PB&J maybe once every three months or even less often, but I always enjoy it way more than I feel I should. On more than one occasion it's made me think, damn, that was good, I'ma eat another one, and then I can't get more than two bites into the second one because it's too filling. And now, three and a half hours later, I'm not particularly hungry. But I guess I'm still thinking about lunch, because it's better than working.
My boss and I were discussing food and our differing reactions to it the other day. He's an "eat to live" person, while I'm a "live to eat" person. I love food. Not on an eating-disorder level of love, but I find it fun to talk about and cook and grow and play with and socialize around. Food, music, dancing, art -- that's an awful lot of the fun stuff in life, you know? And they kind of run together for me. I frankly do not understand how a person can eat beautiful food or dance to great music or see a compelling sculpture and not experience the same sort of primitive merriment that I feel. And that, combined with a tendency to succumb to instant gratification, are part of what makes it difficult to make lasting changes to my diet -- or even bring my lunch. I had a bowl of squash soup for lunch yesterday, and it was good and good for me and and it sated my hunger, but it wasn't what I wanted, and so was kind of a letdown. On a day when I wanted squash soup, it would have been great, though. Does that make sense?
Oh, yes, that makes perfect sense. I'm a terrible menu-planner-and-buy-in-advance-r because I want what I want when I want it, and nothing but that thing will make me feel as happy or full. And that's why I'm a better exerciser than dieter, the end.
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