I can empathize with Sarah this week. I did my fair share of "snow eating." I didn't actually eat the frosty white stuff. Instead, I ate all kinds of comfort food. For me, that means carbs, carbs and some more carbs. Here's Sarah:
Mere moments after last week’s post went up, recounting what an awesome week I’d been having, the wheels fell off big time. Thanks to the snowstorm, I got stuck downtown Wednesday, and I had a delayed hotel dinner that was the first misstep (turkey sandwich, not bad, and fries, boo) among several. The next morning, I stopped by the hotel deli for breakfast and without thinking got a bagel sandwich with egg, cheese and bacon. The mindless eating continued at lunch, when I went to the cafeteria and defaulted to my former it’s-too-crowded-so-I’ll-just-grab-something-fast choice: a slice of pizza and a package of cookies. Bleh.
I could feel myself on a bit of a backslide -- weather-related stress brings out comfort eating in all of us, right? -- and I put a stop to it then and there. (Well, after eating the pizza and cookies.) I made a declaration about it on Facebook, and a couple of people exhorted me to cut myself some slack. But I promise, I wasn’t beating myself up over a piece of pizza or some fries -- I was reacting to the feeling that an old pattern was emerging and I wanted to stop it. And I did, mostly. So that? That was good.
I learned another food lesson while spending the day with my toddler Sunday. I let both of us get overtired and over-hungry and we landed at the absolute wrong place at Arundel Mills, Johnny Rockets. I didn’t do too much damage, but it was not my best move ever. So: bring snacks, plan ahead, and read the map a little more closely were the lessons of that day.
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