Day 40 - Shoot. I Just Ate Too Much

For lunch I had filled a Tupperware bowl full of my curry chicken stew leftovers (I made it again last night!) to take to work. After having my usual smoothie in the morning I rushed to the office and began working. I found myself looking at the clock in 15 minute intervals. 'When will it be lunchtime, I am so hungry,' I thought. I drank a big glass of water to find out whether my unusual hunger was really just the common thirst signal. Still, my mouth watered and my muscles ached for food. My mind could not stop entertaining the thought of the long and smoothly coated chicken strips in the coconut curry slowly being broken apart in my mouth. How odd. Food obsession for me has not been a common occurrence.

It hit 11:45 am. Close enough. I sat down and wolfed up every bit. I recall that near the end of the bowl I watched myself objectively, thinking how curious it was that I was so ravenous and could not get enough that the bowl was directly underneath my chin to prevent any stew-shrapnel from carelessly falling astray. The bowl was meant to be spanned across two to three meals throughout my day. That is what I do everyday and it allows me to be fed on a regular basis and never go into red-flag hunger. Yet I ended up eating until I hit the bottom of the bowl and the sensation of my stomach was tight from fullness. Now I am left with a feeling of discomfort and six more hours without fuel. What happened?

This is the all-too-common stress dynamic. I have talked about it in previous blogs (No-Sleep Sabotage and The Secret to Overeating). I wanted to post this experience again to remind everyone that there is no perfection in the process of nutrition. It does not matter how much professional experience, knowledge and school years you have racked up in your corner - we all as human beings have biological drives that intensely influence our decisions. No one is immune to biological hunger or the need for rest and relaxation. The key is discovering what your triggers are and using that information wisely.

The culprit this time? Sleep, stress and high expectations for a day that should have been about recovery.

Last night my daughter and I had our weekly slumber party. We ended up going to bed around 11pm (which is still late for me) but the full moon glared into the room and pried my eyes open throughout the night. I could recall every movement of my daughter's body. The cat jumping on the end of the bed and kneading; kicking her off. Being too hot with the winter comforter suffocating my body, peeling it off slowly, then becoming cold. Pillow was too squishy, head sunk in too far. Left-side sleeping? No. Right-side sleeping? No. Laying-on-the-back coffin sleeping? Ok. Dog pawing at me, husband yelling for her. Other dog wagging tail on the other side of the wall. Brief silence.

I have no idea exactly how much sleep I got. That is the mistake that many of us make. If we cannot figure out the exact number or if we were not up for a solid stint than we disregard it as having any consequence. Now, though, I am yet again reminded of the importance of better awareness and self-care during the recovery process of these anxious nights. 

When I eventually decided to rise I tried my best to amp up my energy. Today my husband and I celebrate our 10 year anniversary and I wanted to look like a million bucks. I stressed about the outfit I would wear and the overall look for the dinner that night. I ended up slopping too much gel onto my new short hair-do giving myself a barbie-boyfriend-Ken-like plastic head piece (circa 1980's). I thought, 'Well, all I have to do now is put on a large golden chain necklace and leather jacket and I will look like a teenage Italian boy from the Bronx." The dress that I chose, a cinnamon colored 1950's vintage number, coupled with my knee high winter boots seemed initially exciting. That is, until I realized that today was going to be warmer than any other day this winter. Now as I sit here my pits are reservoirs of sweat cesspools and the winter tights coating my legs feels like a waist-down straight jacket.

We all have these days where we are reminded that sometimes joy comes from letting go. I say to myself now, "Shoot. I just ate too much, I am stuck in layers of clothing hell and my hair resembles an impermeable layer of oil-slick on the gulf. At least there is not a seagull dying in there." And moving on.

 Nat