I made a decision this morning.
I’ve been counting calories on an app called my fitness pal. Trying to maintain between 1450 and 1500 a day.
I beat myself up mentally for an ice cream cone.
Or the pretzel thins (Buffalo flavor is SO good.)
And today I decided I am done.
There are a million ways to trigger a depressive episode.
Hating myself for fueling my body should not be one of them.
Our registered dietitian at work tells me all the time that food is not emotional- it’s fuel.
And I agree- up to a point.
There is an intrinsic happiness that comes from enjoying a good meal. From the moment that spoon or fork hits your lips- you know whether it’s going to be an experience or dinner.
And I want to enjoy the experiences. I feel as if I am now conscious of what I can and cannot eat.
But I won’t feel bad for splurging.
And if that means I don’t look like a Victoria’s Secret model so be it.
I’d rather look like me anyway. A little short, kind of curvy and with extremely red hair.
So today I am freeing myself from food guilt. And I am just going to enjoy the experience.