It’s food. Not a hand grenade.*
I’ve been blogging elsewhere about my desire to lose weight. At least that’s what it started out as. Along the way, this blogging, in the best possible way, has forced me to examine in more detail my attitudes about food and size and acceptance.
While I certainly applaud the concept of fat acceptance, I’ve always been more of the “it is okay for other people, but I still need to loose 20 lbs” school of thought. But one of the things that trying to blog consistently about diet and exercise has helped me realize is that I do feel measurably better – both physically and mentally – if I engage in regular moderate exercise. I may have exercise specific aches and pains, but I have fewer headaches and less back and knee pain and just feel better than I do when I’m sluggish. Likewise, I do feel better when I try to make “better choices” in the “have a grapefruit instead of a piece of cheese” vein. But you know what turns me into a cranky screaming harpy? Tracking my damn food intake and feeling guilty about eating things that I enjoy.
So, I say no. I refuse to feel guilty about food. I refuse to think constantly about what I “can” or “should” eat. I would rather have to buy whole new wardrobes in sizes 16 and 18 and beyond than to keep beating myself up about the fact that I want to eat dessert or am sick of Lean Cuisines and turkey. Do I want to eat food that is good for me? Absolutely. Should we be having less McDonald’s and pizza at my house? Absolutely. But I refuse to feel guilty for liking a cheeseburger better than a grilled chicken sandwich or worse. I refuse to talk about having a cookie as “being bad.” I refuse to feign sheepish guilt at getting the damn onion rings. I refuse to turn away the dessert menu just because I had a fruity cocktail before dinner.
Forget the new year’s resolution to lose weight. I will eat what I want and I will keep exercising. If the scale moves or the waist shrinks, great. If it doesn’t, great too.
*Title inspired in part by this post by fillyjonk at Shapely Prose.