I usually start the day out alright. I love Fiber One's Honey Bunches of Oats so I always have that for breakfast and I like it. So I'm going along feeling fine, not hungry, not snacking (not drinking water either, but that's a whole 'nother issue).
Until the boys ask for lunch.
"Lunch?" I asked, surprised. I mean, I'm not hungry, are they really hungry? What time is it anyway? Is it really lunch time? Wow.
Ok, so I head to the kitchen to scrounge up something for lunch. In the fridge is left over pizza from earlier this week. The boys don't want it for lunch. But I'm feeling lazy and bored with my food choices so I pull it out of the fridge and start munching on it while I look for something to feed the guys.
There were three pizzas in the fridge, but by the time I've finished making the boys roast beef sandwiches, I've eaten all three. Didn't I say I wasn't hungry? Huh.
I ate the pizza cold and without a drop of water or milk or anything to drink. I'm sure that can't be good. I don't care. Now I feel yucky and like I didn't really enjoy my lunch and like I need something else to make my lunch better.
So I have a piece of chocolate. Then another. And another.
I did manage to get in two glasses of water between 8:00 this morning and 3:30 this afternoon. But I'm aiming for EIGHT. Argh.
My feelings when I started eating were LAZY and BORED.
9:00 p.m.
Again, at dinner time, I was not hungry, but I ate. I ate a big meal, everything on my plate. Two feelings: RESIGNED and ANGRY.
Resigned because of course I'm going to eat it all. Of course it's too much. Of course my stomach will hurt from being filled too much. Of course.
Angry because of all of the above. I think there's something else there, but I'm not sure what. Angry at myself for not taking more control of myself? I'm not sure. Probably that.
And here's another thing ... when I've eaten a meal, I feel like I want, that I NEED to keep eating. It doesn't matter how much I've eaten or whether I'm full or empty. What matters, is that I eat. Eat, eat, and eat. So I had some more chocolate. I'm only talkin' the mini bars here, but still, I had three of them.
Another feeling: SHAME. I don't want people to see me eat, especially the treats. I stand behind the pantry door to eat them. Tonight the boys and I were watching a movie and I had a bag of chocolates (given by a neighbor as a Christmas gift) that I brought down to share with them. But I was glad they had their faces turned toward the TV and didn't see that I ate twice as many chcolates as them.
They can leave their food if they are full. They can stop at one chocolate if they're sweet tooth has been satisfied. Will I ever have that kind of control over my eating? I hope so.
