I know I just posted yesterday, but I wanted to get on here again today. Last night was not a great night as far as eating goes, and while it's on my mind, I wanted to blog about it. James got off work early because we had a before-they-close-at-5pm errand to take care of together. We were 20 minutes from home, and instead of heading back we said, where can we go for dinner out? The place we chose has fantastic hamburgers, and we don't go there often even though it's technically in "town", it's just on the other side of where we live. So I allowed myself to eat way way way too much. James put me to shame, ordering a healthy turkey burger and for a side, a salad, and Diet Coke. I had a giant greasy burger with all the sloppy fixings and a big side of mac & cheese.
By the time we got home, I was almost in a food coma. You know, that state of being where you can't do much more than fall on the couch and groan because you ate so damn much. I said, it wasn't worth it. It was a normal dinner out on a weeknight simply because we were hungry and didn't want to wait on whatever I could whip up in our own kitchen later on. I could have easily had a soup and salad and water at this restaurant. James and I have this saying about "ordering off the left side of the menu", and I should have done that last night. I should save the calories and gut-stuffing for those extra super special occasions that only come up once a month or so.
I am not going to have a rigid all or nothing mindset this time, I am not going to expect every single bite that goes into my mouth to be low calorie, low fat, low carb. That is a trap I've gotten tangled up in before and it is a motivation killer. Not even Weight Watchers tells me I can't have a hamburger every now and then- that's what all those weekly extra points are for. But, to blow those points on a regular restaurant meal, is not what I want to do anymore. There is something about going out to eat, that just sends me into a frenzied spiral of the "gotta haves" that I can't control. We go out to eat often enough that I shouldn't feel that way. Whatever demon that grabs me up as soon as I sit down in a booth, well, I've got to learn to shake him loose out in the front lobby.
I know there are special "places" that warrant a break from the normal healthy routine. If we head downtown to the square on a Friday night and go to Fabiano's, I am going to have a few slices of the sausage and mushroom pizza and not worry about points or calories. And if we drive all the way up to Atlanta to go to The Vortex (below), I am definitely getting one of their huge burgers with plenty of blue cheese spread. These are places that we go to so infrequently, and are planned destinations, and I know before we even get in the car I am going to bust my diet. And I'm okay with it, and I tell myself it's worth it for this one meal because we probably won't be back there again for another six months or so.
But the next time we are out and about in town and want to go out to eat just because it's lunchtime on a Saturday, I am not going to treat it like it's the very last time and my very last meal at a restaurant. Why can't I be happy with a bowl of soup and the pleasure of my husband's company across the table from me? By instead ordering the most calorie-laden item on the menu every single time, I'm only hurting myself. And it's really not worth it.