Way Past the Lowlands and the Deserts of Failure and Doubt

Last night at the market I spied bakewell tarts and decided I wanted one. Or really, that I might still want one by snacktime today, which is when I'd first allow myself to eat one. (I'd had dinner last night when I saw them, so was done eating for the day.)

There were eight small tarts (200 calories apiece) in the package. I noted the "two free" but didn't pause. I didn't fear eating the whole package, as I've done so often in the past. Mostly, I wondered if I'd even want one by today, and if leaving the country in less than two weeks would justify the waste of food if I didn't. (As in: My time here is too short to eat things I don't want to eat!)

Today, after a frustrating morning that included some 90 minutes wasted getting to a Pilates class that didn't happen because the instructor didn't turn up, I arrived home starving, grumpy, and resentful, partly because I'd planned my morning around this class, and partly because I knew I'd have no other time to exercise today. (And partly because I love this particular class and the time I have left to do it is – you guessed it – severely limited.)

I was heading to a friend's for lunch for about 2 pm – quite late for me, and I had no idea what she'd be serving, which tends to make me slightly anxious. (Partly because I don't do brilliantly with unknowns, and partly because I still can become quite resentful -- and vulnerable to a binge -- when I waste calories on things I really don't want to eat.) I thought perhaps I should eat a snack that was a bit more filling, aka with a bit more protein and maybe some good fat. But what I wanted – really wanted – was the tart. So I had one. Nothing crazy happened. I was fine. Almost like a normal person or something.

And the lunch? It was lovely, though carb-free. (And before you ask, this friend is as English as they come. She has had an obsession lately with juicing and detoxing and such, so maybe I should just be grateful I wasn't served an entirely liquid meal, and of the non-alcoholic variety, too.) I know from mucho experience and experimentation that I don't feel full without carbs at a meal – I am so going to be a pariah in New York!