Party last night was a blast. Great friends, great conversation, great food.
A little too much great food, if you want to know the truth.
It's really hard to eat moderately at a party full of all the things you most like to ravenously devour.
There were a few things that went well.
I steered clear of the deadly marshmallow and pecan topped yam souffle. Definitely a dietary disaster waiting to happen -- the pecan topping alone tipped me to that!
I grabbed a small salad plate and ate off that instead of the huge, dinner-sized plates. I didn't overdo it on the meats and main dishes: pork, chili, beans-and-rice, meatloaf and chicken wings.
But the finger foods did trip me up a bit. Lots of nibbles. Thank goodness they never got around to pulling out the big desserts! Although several chocolate chip cookies made their way into my mouth.
In any case, there was plenty of opportunity for me to truly stuff myself senseless. I didn't.
For as long as I can remember, I've associated a "good time" with a certain amount of dietary hedonism. It's like I can't have fun unless I'm completely unaware of time and space and just eating, eating, eating. (Not that I'd eat too much at one time in front of other people, of course, because that would make me feel funny -- no, I'd invest incredible energy in devising strategies to get me food without anyone being aware of exactly how much I'd eaten. (At least, I'd hope they didn't know.))
There's still an element of that in my life. But it is getting better.
I really wonder what it would be like to be at a party and eat if you are hungry and stop when you are not? And not give the food another thought after that?
Someday I really hope to know the answer to that question.
February 28th, 2015 A Promise Made On Day One
2 hours ago