White snow, indeed. Blah. I opted to wear Fuggs today (no, that’s not a typo) because it was so cold that I figured that any puddles I could possibly step into would have frozen over. I was right, as it turned out. My toes were thankful, since they were a bit chilled even this way.
And, for the record? I found vital wheat gluten in Whole Foods today. This means that A) I am a moron because I didn’t realize it in the Whole Foods I went to, and B) the people at the Whole Foods that I called don’t know what they’re talking about. It was $6.99 in Whole Foods; I paid $9.99. I thought that seemed a bit excessive, but what do I know?!
Today I dug into the bar samples sent to me by Bora Bora.
I predicted that the tribal cinnamon oatmeal would be my favorite flavor, and I opted to try that one first.
I put it in the refrigerator at work, which I shouldn’t have done, because that made it very hard to bite into — but once I did, I loved it! An explosion of cinnamon flavor. (I hope this doesn’t mean that I’m in for an explosion of coconut flavor… ;)) It was more chewy than crunchy — and maybe just a tad too sticky — but the taste was so good that I’d be willing to overlook that.
Romaine, roasted rutabaga, roasted tofu, roasted baby bellas, and roasted baby carrots. All this roasting set off my smoke alarm. Whoops.
The day will come, I am sure, when I tire of variations of this combination (vegetarian “drumstick,” bulgur, steamed broccoli and cauliflower), but that day has not yet arrived.
It has already been established that I am not the most patient of drivers. So when it takes me half an hour to get to my nutritionist’s house, whereas it normally takes fifteen to twenty minutes, tops, I start to get a bit aggravated. Word to the wise: should you ever find yourself a passenger in a vehicle driven by me, and we are stuck in traffic, do not tell me to calm down.
So a variety of factors contributed to my sitting here and blogging an hour past when I should have been in bed. Another part of that was my luck holding out — I got in line at the supermarket, and of course the person in front of me had some sort of issue that made his transaction take f-o-r-e-v-e-r. Murphy’s Law.
Since it is late and I am overtired, I am going to babble senselessly (verbal vomit!) for a little bit before falling into bed. I was meant to buy bananas, one of which I was supposed to eat tomorrow. They didn’t have any. (Well, they did, but they were all green. I ate an underripe banana last week, and it was not a pleasant experience.) Now, of course, I could easily substitute this with another fruit. But any time I start to let down my guard or relax a little bit about food, I simultaneously freak out. It’s demented of me to be clinging so tightly to this, and I think I know why it keeps happening; I am actually embarrassed to admit this, because it is so clichéd, but part of me feels like I can’t let it go because I was never sick enough.
Yes, I know, this makes no logical sense whatsoever. Sick enough for what?! To die? … Um, yeah, that would be a good thing, wouldn’t it? And I really, really don’t believe that weight has much relevance when it comes to eating disorders… I have never said My lowest weight was X, and I never will, because I don’t think that tells the whole story at all. So if I feel that way… why do I continually find myself falling into this stupid trap over and over and over and over and over again?! It shouldn’t matter to me whether or not I’ve ever looked like the stereotypical picture of someone with anorexia, because I know that it is just that — a stereotype, and sort of by definition a load of crap.
I just don’t understand myself sometimes, I really don’t.
Have a lovely Thursday!