I’ve been riding a wave of happiness since the Southern Lights Stroll. I wish official times were up so I could verify that I, in fact, did finish somewhere between 50-51 minutes, however they’re not up yet.
Thanksgiving was spent decorating the Christmas tree and other parts of the house as hubs had to work the afternoon of Thanksgiving (he’s a murse. A male nurse. Not a male purse. Duh.) The family Thanksgiving was held yesterday at my mother-in-laws. This is what I prepared to take over there:
It was pretty much everything that I never eat. Corn. Flour. Sugar. Carbs. My sister in law made macaroni and cheese and mashed potatoes- 2 things she does excellently. These were 2 of my former favorite comfort foods, and so I had seconds of those items. I ended up overeating, as most do on Thanksgiving. My eyes were bigger than my stomach, and I haven’t been that full in a long time. Honestly, it felt awful, but I enjoyed partaking in the food instead of passing it along as I normally would.
In the end, I realized, it’s just food. Maybe it tastes good or makes you feel warm and cozy, but it’s just food.
Except when it’s not.
Here comes a lesson.
I went to spin class this morning and felt great. Then, I took my pup for a quick 1.5 mile walk. I measured out my breakfast and logged the food. Then, I saw it sitting there on the counter. A pecan pie and a half.
Hubs was supposed to take them to work this morning, but forgot. I cut off a sliver and sat down with a cup of coffee and ate the pie. Was it because I was hungry? No. It was because it reminded me of my mom.
Pecan pie was her favorite. We had it every Thanksgiving growing up. It was my favorite too. I would go in the kitchen after everything was put away and sneak a sliver of pecan pie and eat it in my room. It just made me so happy.
Something else she really liked? Pretty Christmas trees. Every year, I try to make one prettier than the year before. I put a lot of time into decorating the tree, because it reminds me of her, and I like feeling the joy looking at my pretty tree creates for me.
I spent the day wondering why I ate that pie, and I realized I ate it for the memory – the same reason I spent hours on the tree and banister. I wanted the memory of my mom, of the traditions we had as a family. So now I sit here wondering if it’s wrong to have eaten the piece of pie if I was craving a memory? Could I have simply just sat and stared at the decorations and not had the food temptation? Yes. I guess right now I’m confused as to whether be thankful for that piece of pie and the memories it brought back, or if I should be upset that I ate a piece of pie.
I know I’m rambling. Right now, I don’t feel guilty about the pie, but I think I should be. Thus, I’m conflicted (and rambling). My relationship with food has been such a distorted one my entire life, that now I must figure out how to handle these things for the rest of my life.
