I’ve mentioned it before and I’ll mention it again: I’m a stress eater. When things get hectic to a point where I can’t ‘stand’ it, I tend to eat like mad. It wouldn’t be a bad thing if what I ate was stuff like lettuce, carrots, bell peppers and the like.
But no, I have to want things like pizza and baklava and crap like that.
Or do I?
As recent as 48 hours ago I had a row with a dear friend. I adore this girl, despite her crass and sometimes abrasive nature. We’ve fallen out of touch with both our lives going in different directions and on Thursday it came to a head. It wasn’t horrible by any stretch of the imagination, but it was…enough.
Thursday afternoon when I left the office for lunch, I had it in mind to stop and get the most fattening, disgustingly greasy bbq platter I could get my claws on. I even knew what sides I wanted. I’d gotten the number of a new bbq joint and tucked it into my Blackberry and off I went. When I dialed and the girl put me on hold, I’d considered my sides, and even my dessert. I got disconnected and my irritation grew. When I called back I finally got someone on the phone to take my order.
I ordered a boneless rib sandwich and a side of mac and cheese.
While not the healthiest thing in the universe, it was a far cry from what I’d been planning to order. And the kicker? I’d ordered it on auto pilot. When I pulled into the CVS parking lot next to the joint to pick up some nail polish, I couldn’t remember a damn thing I’d ordered. And yet, when I walked in she handed me my bag and my total was $8.99 rather than the $23.57 I’d calculated.
Um…what?
I went back to teh office, fully expecting to still be angsting since I didn’t get my ‘make me feel better!’ food, and I sat at the back desk and ate.
Now, I could go on about how damn good that sandwich was (and believe me, it was amazing), or I could go on about how I was hiding from my boss so I could actually eat. Or I could even mention the guy I work with being an absolute fan of this place. Well…I just did, but that’s beside the point.
When I was finished with my sandwich, I tossed my container away, took my mac and cheese and went up front. The mac and cheese stayed untouched, and when I finally did take a bite I found I didn’t like it at all and threw it right out.
This makes me wonder: This whole ‘emotional eating’ thing I say I do. Is it something I do while I’m well aware of what I do, or is it something I do when I’m not paying attention.
Thursday showed me that if I’m not paying attention, I’m still not going to choose the healthiest fare, but I necessarily won’t be choosing the worst either.
Now that’s food for thought.
