The scale has not gone up. This is good news and is following my plan. Peanut butter and jam sandwich? Not following my plan. Yesterday I had an awesome three miler, complete with chest-heaving "fartleks." Then, I walked the kids to the library, whole foods, and the park. Someone slap us on the cover of "Active Family." This trek unfortunately convinced me that I had probably earned some diet wiggle room and so I snitched some granola, yogurt covered almonds and had quiche for dinner. But, I repeat, the scale has not gone up. And that is my daily focus. We'll see how tomorrow flies.
How does one handle leftovers? Do we scarf the last few bites of the peanut butter sandwich our child leaves behind because we wish we were really having that for lunch anyway? Which is worse--wasted food in the trash or in my stomach? Either way it isn't doing anyone any good I guess and noone is going to give me a refund on my grocery bill if I can prove that every bit of my purchase was eaten. So, I should just let it go. I should stop licking my fingers, stop hoping Lucy won't finish her sandwich, and realize that I deserve to stick to my plan. My goals merit eating differently, and if I have a good attitude about it, I won't create children with eating disorders. I don't want my girls to be consumed by their body image. I want them healthy and strong. I also don't want to sit by them while they sob into their pillow because a boy at school called them beached whale. I've sobbed into that pillow. Once and awhile I still cry quietly into that pillow.