Sunday, September 4, 2011

In which I fight fair food

We took the kids to one of our favorite country fairs yesterday.

I love fairs. They're fun, loud, honky-tonk and slightly trashy, with rides of questionable safety and food of absolutely no nutritional value.

If it were any other week, I'd had saved some Activity Points or Weeklies to spend in a delicious onslaught of something fried, sugary or savory. Or, all three.

But I have my official-it-really-counts-this-week monthly weigh-in at the watchers of weight on Tuesday, and the timing (72-ish hours) was too close for my comfort.

So, what to do?

One of my goals for, frankly, the rest of my life, is to have a "normal" relationship with food. I know that's a charged adjective, but here's what I mean: I don't want to eschew all good-but-bad foods for the rest of my days. And I also don't want to weight 282 lbs again.

I want to be able to enjoy junky stuff in moderation, here and there. Mostly there, I suspect. And I don't want to hold my family hostage so that they can never enjoy places or foods that I may decline.

It's never going to be: "Kids, we can't go to the fair because Mom can't eat anything."

Anyway, you get the point. Mom is going to adapt to the situation, whatever that is.

So while I would be abstaining from fair food porn on this trip, it doesn't mean I will be forever. It just happened to be a timing thing. I had a piece of fried dough at Six Flags last month, for instance and - holy God - it was good.

OK, so back to Saturday. Since I knew going in I wouldn't be eating at the fair, I planned ahead. I made sure I had all the ingredients for a yummy, low-Point lunch: Board's Head turkey and bacon (yay!) on a Pepperidge Farm sandwich thin. Plus, grapes. And, you know, water.

I packed my lunch that morning, jammed the lunch bag in the bottom of the stroller and had it on hand when it was time to eat.

I didn't feel left out. I didn't feel like I was missing out. I didn't feel like I was being punished. I felt like I made the smart move and I was damn proud of myself for doing so.

Yes, everything smelled and looked delicious. Everywhere I looked someone was jamming something fantastic in their pie hole. But I wasn't tempted or in a foul mood because I will live to eat fried dough another day - just not 3 days before weigh-in.

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