My husband showed up out of the blue early yesterday morning. He's off all Thanksgiving week. I knew he was coming down, I didn't realize it would be Saturday. Whatever.
We went out late in the afternoon for a cheap early dinner at a Burger joint, and then over to Barnes and Noble.
We wandered around, separately, for a while. I probably spent an hour or so just browsing, taking pictures of books I was interested in, some I'd like to get for my nieces for Christmas, and so on. And it was just good to be out of the house, ya know?
Anyhoo, like most B&N's, this one has a Starbucks. They are also partnered with The Cheesecake Factory and they had this giant sized poster with a photo of a big slice of pumpkin cheesecake. I love both pumpkin and cheesecake, and had I had an extra $5-, I would've gotten a piece. Instead, I sat down with a hair magazine (I need to do something with this mess called "hair") looking at short haircuts, and then Inc. Magazine that an an interesting story on a CEO who decided every employee at his company should make at least $70,000 per year. It was a great story on how he came to that decision, how he accomplished it (paid for it), and the result (profits are up). If you get a chance I highly recommend it.
At any rate, I'm sitting there, reading, and this short round man sat down across from me. And as I looked over at his table, I noticed that he had a sandwich of some type in a basket; a big piece of pumpkin cheesecake that he had already started on, and a carmel frappucino. And I thought to myself: That's a lot of carbs.
My second thought was, I wonder if the cheesecake is any good?
And he was eating it in a way that both reminded me of myself, and as if he were a drug addict self-medicating. Both were true.
I remember having those eating parties, although I rarely did mine in public, how I would plan for them, meticulously select the menu to please all those food cravings that were actually manifested feelings of insecurity, fear, anxiety, and mediocrity. And I was so glad that for the most part, I am not that person anymore.
Oh, sure, I have my moments, but to eat what he ate? It wouldn't fit. And then I would be sick for days. The cheesecake I probably could've pulled off, but I was already full from dinner anyway, and you know what? Cheesecake will always be there if I really want some. Or I can make my own only LC/SF. And have (altho not pumpkin flavor).
And I really felt badly for the guy. Not pity, no, more of an understanding that whatever was bothering him about himself and his life he was trying to tamp down with all of that food. He ate it all and then left when he was about halfway through his frappo.
I get it. I totally get it. And without surgical intervention, I might still be that person. I'm coming up on two years since the surgery, and I have changed SO much. I make better choices and decisions now almost without thinking. I think about consequences both in terms of immediate (sickness), long term (weight loss) and being out of control. I don't ever want to be that person again.
For me, this was really never about appearance, but health, and stepping away from crazy behavior, and I think for the most part I've been successful. And my goal is to continue that into the future.
I don't have to be "that guy" ever again. And I don't want to.
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