If you are wondering about the progress of my goals, I will direct you to the respective dates on this post and the last one. The class that compels me to maintain this blog and follow a self-directed health goal dictates that I journal at least once a week about my progress.
That hasn't happened.
I'm hoping that this beast of an entry will make up for my previous weakness.
My goal of eating a certain and increasing percentage of my meals according to My Plate guidelines has seemed less attainable with every passing day. My nutrition isn't the only goal that is suffering. The house is a wreck. I'm behind on school work. Spously cuddle time is in the toilet. There are several contributing factors, but I believe the real problem is that during the day I have no handle on anything. The girls are not napping at the same times, and both need a lot of attention when they are awake. Eating well requires a lot of planning, or at least transitioning out of eating garbage to eating well does.
Of course I have also compounded the planning problem with other choices. Last weekend I attended a birthday party and ended up leaving the party with nearly all of a large chocolate cake. This means that for nearly a whole week I ate cake either with or for every single meal. My liquid consumption was similarly poor.
When I excessively poorly for days in a row, I can feel the negative effects almost instantly. I notice myself slowing down from the inside out. I was feeling very sluggish by the time I went to my wellness class last Tuesday night. In class we talked about diabetes, and the teacher said before we had more accurate and easier tests, doctors would taste their patients' urine in order to screen for diabetes. This reminded me of a joke from comedian Patrice O'neal about how he learned that he had diabetes.
After class, I went home and told my wife about the doctor thing. I'd previously told her about the O'neal joke, so she thought that I was messing with her.
The next day, I ordered a massive plate of nachos at a Mexican restaurant. I had already been borderline upset with myself over my gluttony. Just a few days prior, a friend and I had been marveling at our college eating habits, about how we'd viewed cleaning off a huge plate of nachos as badge of honor. It made us feel like we'd defeated the meal. We'd eat long after we'd been satisfied, usually spend the car ride home in pain. My friend and I laughed at how the nachos look so beautiful when it arrives at the table, then becomes so disgusting after about five minutes. It turns into a bowl of greasy beef chicken lettuce cheese beans sour cream and chips soup. Anyone who eats those nachos gets to see what it looks like in their stomach long before they finish eating.
I was scrolling through Facebook on my phone while eating these nachos when I learned that Patrice O'neal had suffered a stroke.
I looked down at the nachos and felt very sad and very worried. I took the photo at the top of this entry so that I could remind myself of the horrible feeling. I decided to find a way to improve my diet that would be more attainable in the short term instead of giving up on my plan altogether. Now I am simply pushing for meeting the My Plate requirements for vegetables. If I can do that, perhaps the other parts will feel more automatic.
Looking at that photo of those half-eaten nachos at the top of this entry, I am upset. I am upset that I'm not eating them right now.