Watch out, I'm a triple threat. I eat for fuel, I eat with emotions, and I eat when I'm bored. No wonder this has been a life long struggle for me. I know this, I've learned this and conquered these downfalls, but I've relapsed.
I mentioned in the last post that Trevor is gone for two weeks, and I had manageable goals to get into a routine while he's away. I started out with promise: I walked a brisk 2mi with baby in her front-pack, AND ate a ton of veggies on the first day. I was at my mom's house, and she makes health fun for me (versus when I was a teen, and I seemingly rebelled from her skinny mini lifestyle).
The next morning on the drive home, all that ruffage went right thru me. However, in my few hours at home alone with the baby and the animals, I ate the remaining snacks in the house to fill the lonliness. Ironic, I realized, as I was only home to feed the cats their daily dry boring kibble. I realize when feeding them, the dog, or the baby: they only eat when they're hungry.
This as my mantra, I head back up to moms place to spend the night again and avoid my empty house (funny how large a void one member of the family leaves). I do well the rest of the day, and this morning, having hot tea or water when feeling snacky. But, home again this afternoon, and I fall right back into it. I've done light picking up, but mostly have spent the day on the couch with the baby. I get up to look at my empty fridge, and it makes me hungry. So I have a string cheese and a cup noodles, and a FiberOne bar, and a weight watchers frozen meal (after seriously considering ordering something in.) I really wanted the remaining Ben and Jerry in the freezer, so went upstairs and weighed myself and decided against it. Strong, right?
Then the baby is nursing and tv is boring and Trevor hasn't called. So I called him until I woke him up, felt like a lonely needy jerk, and went and grabbed that damn ice cream, and washed it down with Diet Coke. Recently (prebaby) when upset, I would clean to distract myself, or make some crafty goodness. But with the baby attached to my boob, my only way to deal with my emotions is food. The crap I'm eating isn't good for me, and makes the baby gassy and cranky, further exaborating my overwhelming feeling of lonliness.
I've cleaned out the kitchen of crap, made a grocery list full of crunchy veggies, and have now publicly announced my secret failures. At this point, I don't think I could get any worse, so I'm looking forward to tomorrow, and the changes I know I can make.