I love food. I’ve always counted myself lucky that I’ve never changed weight, regardless of how much I eat, or what I eat. It’s actually been a point of pride and, in some ways, bragging for me. I remember, for example, doing a food challenge at a local eatery called Beat the Meat, which entailed eating a 32 ounce steak, chips and salad. When the guys at work heard this, they were a mix of impressed that a small girl could eat so much and not just one of those girls who orders a salad when they go out, and giggling about the innuendo opportunities of Beat the Meat.
And then again, I also thought I didn’t really need to eat healthy. I am generally healthy, after all. The odd snack, the odd take away. It’s just treats. Besides, I regard myself as active. I take a walk every morning and walk everywhere just generally. I run every other day, do yoga, and now I have a spin bike. Many of my hobbies are swayed to the active side, so why should I try a bit harder, right?
The thing is, I might be fit, but that doesn’t mean I’m healthy. And recently, I’ve noticed.
As I’ve been moving out, waiting for certain furniture has turned into a bit of an excuse to eat easier meals to cook, or order take away straight off the bat. We don’t have much kitchen work top space and have in consequence ordered an island. While we’ve waited, we’ve lamented over the lack of work top space and just decided to have a take away. It’s nice at the time, but in post I always think how much money we’re spending on take away that’s not going to do us much good. Empty calories that cost far too much, and not just financially.
So where do you start from there? Often, its a moment of clarity. Lying in bed with an achey stomach hours after eating, and suddenly it’s not worth it anymore. Why do we crave this type of food so much? Is it because we see it as a treat, and have therefore associated it with reward? I think, too, it’s become almost excusable in many circumstances. Tired? Get take out. Had a bad day? Get take out. Had a good day? Get take out. Done a work out? You’ve burnt enough calories, get take out.
It’s like with so many other things that aren’t good for us. Wine, hours on our phones, lying on the sofa instead of doing that thing we want to do, and should do, that would make us feel better. Why do we gravitate towards the thing that’s easier and more numbing? Because it’s easier and numbing.
I think getting healthy is very much a personal choice. I know so many people feel that they need support from others, joining a group or going into the same diet with a couple of friends. But what happens when one of them caves, and begins rationalising their choices? Make the decision for yourself and yourself alone. We’re so easily influenced by those around us; we’re social creatures, afterall. And, for so long, unhealthy food, or too much food, has been a social thing for me, too. I always go out eating when it’s with friends, instead of walking or something else recreational. It’s not that they’re not interested, it’s just that eating is easy.
So on Saturday, instead of staying in bed and lamenting over my icky digestive system, I went out and brought actual healthy food. Every day this week, I’ve had a healthy breakfast with fruit, salad for lunch, and a light and healthy diner. I log it all on Noom, an app I’ve had an avoidant relationship since I build up the habit of logging everything, until I eat a biscuit. I’ve used my fitbit more, but I never really needed it to motivate myself to move. But its nice to feel involved, isn’t it?
It might feel like a sacrifice to begin with, but really think about the sacrifice you’re making. What is the sacrifice, really? Feeling better? Having a stomach that doesn’t gargle for hours after eating a kebab? Not pushing yourself for a guilt run in the morning to somehow salvage yourself? Starting the day feeling energized after a nutritious start?
Don’t let eating bad food become your identity because you think you can get away with it; you might look okay on the outside, but think about what its doing to your inside.
Paint a Mental Picture 