(And no, it’s not hammer time.)
You do not need to lick, pick or bite off those traces of cheesy bits from the wrapper.
I’m sure you didn’t NEED whatever was in the wrapper to begin with, however I am uber certain you don’t need to pick off the once melted, now hardened, processed fromage stuck to the paper.
Or the paper that inevitably comes off with the wrapper cheese. You know, the stuff you eat anyway, cause hey – it’s just paper.
It’s okay if you throw away the wrapper, cheese and all.
Wait. Then again, maybe we don’t.
Or we just think we do as an excuse to not do. And call it cramps.
Ugh. See what I mean?
Losing weight is simple in theory. It’s about making the choice to take action for the betterment of your body. Not for the detriment of it. It’s getting off of work like my hubs does and saying, “okay I’m going for my run!” Versus sitting in front of the computer logging more work hours instead of miles all the while resenting the fact it’s just so easy for him to “go for a run”.
Doesn’t he know there’s stuff to do still. Important stuff?
But what’s more important than nurturing your health? I ask myself.
Then I think and think and think . . . Once I stop thinking the answer is clear.
Hmm. Is it a coincidence that the word HATE is just ATE with an H in front?
How could I Have ATE that?
I sometimes HATE myself after I ATE something that I knew I shouldn’t have stuffed in my face…
Did you ever have that feeling? That feeling of insta-guilt?
And then the obligatory WHY? Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I making the conscious choice to cram crap down my food hole?
Just the simple fact that I associate HATE with food means I have an unhealthy relationship with what I need to live. It’s like saying I hate the fact that I took a breath of that dang oxygen. What the heck was I thinking?!
So the question must be asked. Why do I self-loathe? Even better, why do I eat what I eat knowing shame will set in the moment I crumple up the wrapper?
Is it because I am ashamed I’ve let myself go? So screw it. Lots of people are fat. Look! I’m not nearly as fat as that person . . .
It’s because I want to be perfect . . .