Yesterday my eating was great. Nothing out of the ordinary, good stuff and not large amounts of anything. I had loads of exercise too as I headed into the evening hours thinking I was on top of my problems and conquering them.
Then my husband Morton came home from work. Now he's never ever put a gun to my head to get me to eat, but last night since he was picking me up at my daughter's house, I HAD to get in the car with him. THAT is when the trouble happened.
He was hungry and why not? He had just worked a long and physical shift. Any normal human would be ready to eat dinner when they quit working and he was the same. It didn't matter it was 11:30 at night.
We drove through a fast food joint and while the girl on the other side of the crackling menu board was asking him to repeat things (she couldn't make out "cheeseburger" since Morton rolls his r's with a thick Scottish accent) I piped up that I wanted a small chili and a small vanilla Frosty. WHY DID I DO THAT!!!???
Morton related the order, then pulled around to pay for it. He didn't say a word about me going back on my words that I didn't want anything to eat. We pulled over to eat the stuff in the parking lot and he told me about his night at the job. I ate and kept my mouth shut for fear I would say the words that I was thinking...WHY did I order anything? WHY don't I have any self control? And above all else, WHY, if my husband loved me (which I know he does) would he bring me hear knowing I have a food problem? Does he want me to be forever fat and unhealthy?
So many questions formed a tight ball of anger, doubt, self-loathing and guilt in my stomach I didn't enjoy the food. I burnt my tongue on the chili and froze my brain on the Frosty. It was hideous.
When we got home he headed for the shower and I headed for bed. The food was churning in my stomach that was cramping and not use to the late night eating any more. This was a very low moment for me.
Laying on my stomach I opened the book Huckleberry Finn to continue reading it for the 23rd time. After just one short and funny chapter, I had to turn on my side. The stomach was just too full.
Giving up on the book I switched the light out and hoped I would just fall asleep fast and let the midnight meal digest with no more guilt. This was one night. This wasn't something that I was planning on doing every night.
Sleeping it off I woke in the morning guilt free. One bad night isn't going to undo all the good that has been happening the last three months with me.
The next time Morton picks me up after his shift, I think I'll either need to get behind the wheel and drive us home or just walk! They would both be a lot healtier.
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