It's a pain you forget...

When I was pregnant, people used to always assure me that women have some magical hormone that helps them forget about the pain of pregnancy and childbirth (otherwise the human race would have died out years ago!).  Well, if anyone knows me well they know I still deal with the birth trauma every day of my life, so forgetting it isn't going to happen anytime soon, but the concept of "It's the kind of pain you forget" does weirdly apply to my food choices.

I know that if I eat cheap crappy pizza, I will be sick for the rest of the night.
I know that if I drink sweety drinks with fake sugar, I will be sick as well.
I know that if I even taste test Burger King, I am good and well screwed gastro-wise.

And yet, I forget EVERY SINGLE TIME as I reach for my credit card when ordering pizza after a late night of baby wrangling.  Every.  Single.  Time!  Is there some fat based hormone that makes my body forget that 2 hours after eating a box of Cornettos, I'm going to be doing awful things to my own bathroom?   Even now, writing about the Cornettos, I want them.  They are going to make me sick as a dog, but I am salivating thinking about them!  One would have thought that evolution would have shoved this concept out of my head - even rats learn which food can hold poison and stay away.  I am officially dumber than a rat.

I did not cheat yesterday!

...Well,  I did.  Let me explain.

I did great all day, had lovely salads with the BEST dressing (Editor's note:  YOU HAVE TO TRY THIS DRESSING - remove bacon from pan, saute finely chopped onions in bacon fat, add a glug of orange juice (or just juice the orange into the pan) and a teaspoon of English mustard, stir till reduced, pour over salad hot, OM NOM till you are full).  I walked about 2 miles with the kid.  I was at the huge mall, but didn't get anything to eat.  But I knew that the evening was going to be tough, as I had writer's group, which is at a theatre pub, and the ladies always split a bottle of wine.  So, I went.  And I had a glass of wine.  I didn't freak out, I didn't beat myself up over it, I had a glass (and no nibbles!!!), and came home, where hubs had ordered omelette, curry, and rice.  Well, the omelette is perfectly fine, and the curry looked safe enough, so I had that over approximately 1 tablespoon of rice (just enough to give the sauce something to stick to), and that was it.

Technically?  I cheated.  It's supposed to be no alcohol, no rice.  So why don't I call it that?  Because that Puritanical food mindset is one of those things I am trying to break in my head.  Food *doesn't* have to be good or bad, it can just be a carrier of calories, and when I stop vilianizing (and lionizing) certain foods, THAT's when I can begin to feel more in control over my body.

There's a naughty e-card/meme going around that says "Instead of meat, maybe you should give up your contradictory, homophobic religion for Lent.  Just sayin'."  I like that.  Instead of giving something up, I am giving up the mindset that got me into trouble in the first place.