So this was something that happened today that I simply had to blog about, since it was really strange, and an excellent example of why and how I have quite the six-week plan before now.
Because of these last couple of days of going to restaurants, eating salad with way too few greens and way too much dressing (and zero legumes), I have started taking baby carrots and maybe a fruit of some kind with me so that I don't starve when my mom and sister are totally full/fine/whatever, and I am dying of hunger, and secretly sobbing because I can't eat anything around me. The first couple of days of "vacation eating" weren't easy, mostly because I am just so used to being able to go home, and making everything myself, etc. A bit harder on vacation.
Anyway, today we were going to go to a vegan restaurant here that I've LOVED before, and so since I knew I could get tofu and lots of greens there, I didn't bring any extra snacks with me.
The vegan restaurant had closed. So Mom and Sister wanted to go to a restaurant called "Bacon", and I didn't want to be the asshat who can't go because it's called Bacon.
So we get there, and see the menu, and while there is a lot of meat there, they actually have hummus dishes and other vegetarian/vegan friendly things. BUT I have had enough salt for the month because of salad dressings, and I order a green salad, no croutons, dressing on the side.
The salad comes with bacon--bacon FAT--sprinkled all over the damn thing. I'm not going to eat this bacon (gross!), but I also hate being the asshat who is so damn picky, and who orders as if she knows better than the chef. I hate being that person that makes servers say "then why even come out to eat?" I just don't have the courage to just tell them what I want--damn the friends/family I'm out with, damn the servers, damn the chef. So I pick the bacon off, meanwhile my sister is looking at me like she wishes her sister could just be a little bit more sane, and I feel ridiculous. The waitress comes over and asks about it, I tell her I don't eat meat, she looks a me like I'm an insane person to come to a restaurant named "Bacon", and gets me another one.
About half of the greens have spoiled, and have that slimy dark look about them that makes me just KNOW that I'm going to be sick if I eat it. So NOW I have to go through the second salad and pick out all the greens that have gone bad. And my sister is looking at me as if she wished I would just stay home. And I don't blame her! It must be embarrassing to eat with someone so picky.
But I really want to do this. And the past four times that I have tried--and failed!--to stay on the six-week plan, one little aberration that I willingly make means that I can now go off the plan. No one came out and smacked me on the head with a baseball bat when I had a piece of chocolate, so I can have another one tomorrow. But I don't want chocolate. I mean, I do, but not really. What I want is to go from 146 lbs to 130 lbs. I have never weighed that little in my life, and I want to. I want so badly just to see what that would be like. To know, once and for all, if any interactions in my daily life change when I'm a different size. Or were most of them because I was fat? What changes? Will 50 yr old men finally stop hitting on me, or is it really my friendly personality? Will cute guys finally start hitting on me, or was it really my assertive personality? I want the answers to these questions--those that have pestered me all my life--to finally reach me. I want to know, as best as I can. And I want to know what it might feel like to be one of the Beautiful People. Maybe I'll never know, but I think this plan and this blog are going to help me. And of course I want stress-free dining. Of course I want chocolate cake with a marble frosting, peppermint bon-bon ice cream on the side. But I know what that tastes like, and I don't know what being thin feels like.
And my ultimate defense against the situation: if you got a pink chicken, where you couldn't eat it, wouldn't you send it back, too? Should I be then expected to eat spoiled greens? I would get sick, too. Just as much as you would with undercooked meat.
Thanks for reading--please comment to let me know you're out there!
All my love.
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