Entry 10 - Focus on the Positive

So, my good bud Laurel (waves at Laurel) suggested I try a "think positive" approach on dieting. In particular, eat certain "good for you" foods every day, as a requirement. This foods are "fill you up" standards. If I'm still hungry after those, I can still snack on something else, but I have to eat certain healthy foods (ones I actually like) before I can do anything else. The plan she put out is more structured than that, and includes some exercise, but it sounds reasonable, right?

We're going to try that together as of Monday.

In the meantime, I still need to figure out why I have some self-destrutive behaviors. Hubby and I discussed this last night. I have two things that, for me, would typically be tremendous motivators: 1) Health and 2) Hypocrisy. Health, well, I've laid out my pre-cancerous condition below. The hypocrisy needs a bit more explanation.

Dad died of lung cancer, after 40 years of smoking (although he'd quit 10 years before he was diagnosed), although working for the railroad around large diesel engines couldn't have helped. Not to mention all those farm fertilizers. But I digress. As a result, I cannot even look at a cigarette now without getting nauseous. The smell of them makes me positively sick not only physically, but sick with grief. My brother, however, still smokes. It astounds me, and I have not been able to figure out how, after knowing, witnessing first hand what smoking can do, he still does it.

Yet, what am I doing? The same thing. I know the consequences of what I'm doing to my body, yet I'm still cramming food down as fast as I can.

Normally my own hypocrisy, my judgment of others for something I do myself, will make me reconsider my stance, will help me re-evaluate the whats and whys of everything. I'll either stop my actions or alter my opinions because I cannot stand hypocrisy.

But in this case, I can't do it. To paraphrase Homer Simpson, in this particular instance, you couldn't out-hypocrite me on the hypocritiest day of the year with an electrified hypocrisy machine.

Food's always been there for me. It's always been a constant. When my oldest sister took off, I still had buttery popcorn. When my first marriage was disintegrating, I still had chocolate. When Dad died, I still had eclairs (well I don't now because of the Celiac, but I did then). People, by their own choices or by unfortunate circumstance, can't always be there. But I'll always have food, right? I mean, I need it to live! What better justification for relying on it?

Over-relying on it is the problem, though. And that's what I do. Hence my Grimace-y figure. Only less purple.