Putting the "Loss" in Weight-loss

There was a death in the immediate family this week.
You know what that means? I mean, apart from the obvious um, someone is dead.

Debu Chan said, "Scalloped potatoes." Yes, scalloped potatoes, the token food of the funeral extravaganza. Funerary arrangements are a perilous pit for any unsuspecting bystander. As far as a dieter at a post-funeral luncheon? It's like watching lemmings flock to the edge of the cliff.
There are so many factors contributing to foods sent to the homes of grieving loved ones. Is it easy to make? Is it fairly portable? Will it feed a bunch of people? Will it keep for a few hours?

There is an extravaganza. Soups, stews, meatballs, salads, breads, pastas, and I swear those are just the appetizers. And then desserts? Cookies, breads, cakes, pies, you name it. It basically amounts to carb soup, fat casserole, pudge pie, etc., etc.

You never know what to expect. Anyone from anywhere could send anything. You might have no idea what is coming, but I would bet my next paycheck it will not be no-carb, non-fattening, non-dairy, non-diet-sabotaging food. It will be comfort food. And it won't be single serving. It will come in a vat with a bucket to use as a spoon.

Debu Chan said that it would be faster to just apply the scalloped potatoes directly to the thigh area. You've recognized that cellulite looks disturbingly similar to scalloped potatoes, right? Think about it. Frightening.

Part of the family stress I alluded to in an earlier post was the anticipation of this impending event. It wasn't unexpected and it wasn't necessarily tragic, but it takes an emotional toll nonetheless. Time and food and hunger take on different dimensions in the context of emotions. When grieving and coming into contact with people and relationships you may not have considered for a long time, emotions and memories and questions and regret come in relentless tidal waves. Time seems to slow down, you get disoriented. Are you hungry? Did you just eat? Your mother/father/uncle's-cousin is eating, that looks good; better get some dessert before its gone. Maybe you ate 8 hours ago and are starving. Maybe you just ate to the point of barfing 15 minutes ago, but here comes Aunt Helen with a pot of big beef stew and it is just too good to miss.

My point is, in the midst of a huge emotional event that you are likely sharing with others, natural rhythms like sleep, waking, work, eating are completely disrupted. You are faced with people and places you likely don't encounter every day and it only makes sense you will encounter food and dining situations you likely don't encounter every day.

I won't pretend I didn't overeat. The difference is, I overate at meals. I didn't overeat at meals, overeat at snack-time, get bored and overeat just because I was awake, overeat because I was going to bed, etc. Despite ready access to regular soda I opted for diet most of the time. (I won't pretend that compensates for the gross amount over-points I'm sure each spoonful was.)
I tried to eat a dinner plate, limit myself to a bowl with one 2nd helping of something irresistible, maybe dessert, and then clear my plate and silverware so I wouldn't be tempted to continue foraging to pass the time.

Case in point, last night at the place we were staying, we debated... beer? Pizza? Beer & pizza? Where would we get beer and pizza? It's late, will anyone bring it? Do we feel like going out? It's late, it's dark, etc., etc., etc.
We ended up not going anywhere and not ordering anything, and neither one of us perished from famine.
Even this morning, at breakfast we were debating on each having a breakfast sandwich in addition to what we had already eaten. Instead I made a breakfast sandwich and we split it.

I feel like gradually the eating decisions we made months ago have become permanent and even subconscious. As refreshing as it is to come to that realization, it occurs to me how very important those new habits will be in the coming days and weeks. The typical gluttony of the holiday season could easily be compounded by grief resulting in something horrible - something no one ever wants to see.

That's right. Scalloped potato thighs.



RIP X x x x. You are loved.