Crashing off the wagon

This might seem like an odd topic for a first post on a blog about healthy living.

I had a stressful day yesterday.  A client yelled at me for 25 minutes about something I didn’t do wrong.  On the way to collect my car from the garage, I took the wrong bus and ended up stranded and freezing, waiting for a completely different bus to take me back to where I started, still miles from where I was supposed to be.  And then, to top it all off, my car’s “routine service” revealed a problem with the *something* belt and the *something* bearing, and a £100 bill transformed miraculously into an unexpected £300 bill (although, admittedly, I do prefer driving it without the loud whistling noise coming from the engine).

On the drive home, as I felt the injustice of the day wash over me, I felt my resolve to go to the gym crumble.  Crumble, just like the artisan brownie my colleague had plonked in front of me earlier that day, which (after the yelling client incident) I had been powerless to resist.

“That was a great brownie,” I reflected.  “And speaking of which, you’re already off the wagon today, and it really has been a very stressful day…”

I knew what was happening here.  I waited for some form of self control to step in and stop me.  I think my reserves must have been exhausted from all the over-exertion that day.  My self control had worked very hard to prevent me from crying when the garage man had handed me that invoice earlier.

“YOLO”, said that naughty little voice.

The damage:

  • Indian takeaway
  • One bottle of wine (shared, with Housemate, it was a Tuesday – I’m not that bad)
  • Slightly immoral sized portion of kettle chips with caramelised hummus dip
  • Two unnecessary Oreo “Egg n Spoon” chocolate eggs
  • One homemade cupcake (jammy dodger themed)

It is fun crashing off the wagon.

Except that I felt sick.  And bloated.  And guilty.  Sick and bloated and guilty is not a fun combination.

“It’s not worth it!” Housemate and I cried at each other, for the next two hours, as we lay prostrate in front the obligatory cheat day chick flick (When Harry Met Sally).

And the truth is, it’s not worth it.  It’s not actually that fun diving off the wagon into a vat of Madras and kettle chips.  It is the idea of the overindulgence which is so appealing, but 9 times out of 10, the reality fails to live up to the idea.  It’s nice, that feeling of release you get when you give in to the fun, sexy decrees of the Id (“go on, just do it, I dare you”), and let him stomp all over the geeky, boring Super-ego (“Wait, are you sure that extra Oreo egg is such a good …– ah – god – Id! Stop stomping on me – ah *muffled pained sounds*”).

Self deprivation creates an unhealthy attitude towards food, which is unsustainable and unhealthy.  We all want, secretly, to push that big red button that says “do not push” on it.  And yet, when I come round from that Id infused haze, I invariably reflect that Super-ego, whilst irritating, does have a point.  Actually that second Oreo chocolate egg wasn’t a good idea.

Having said that, that is by no means the last time I will crash off the wagon.  But I have resolved that, next time I do, I am going to try to crash a little less spectacularly.  Maybe just the one Oreo chocolate egg.

jammy-dodger-cupcakes

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