My husband has been endeavoring to eat better, get healthier, whatever, since Ash Wednesday. He gives up most indulgences for Lent (making it annoying to live with him, since I give up things like driving really slow in front of people who are tailgating me, instead pulling over for them to pass, but that doesn't show up the way not eating chocolate does). After Lent, instead of going back to his evil ways, he kept on eating healthier. And, then, just over a month ago, I caught up with him. In honor of Father's Day, however, I decided that I would get him his favorite treats, or at least some of them.
His gift was M&Ms with the Mets logo, and a dispenser. He didn't scarf those down, those are still on his desk. I made guacamole, with 6 avocados. He ate most of two bowls of it, with the attendant tortilla chips. I had some of that--and a few more chips after I was done with the guac. I also got him gelato, and the piece de resistance was dinner. It was, drum roll please: hot dogs on the grill. My husband would live on hot dogs if not for the fact that they shorten your life. But not a dog except for Hebrew National 99% fat-free franks has crossed our threshold in months--so it was Deutchmacher on the grill. He asked for three. He ate three hot dogs for dinner. I also made potato salad. My father taught me to make potato salad. It's not a complex recipe and the entire secret lies in adding the potatoes to everything else, not dumping stuff on top of the potatoes. Over the years, though, I've lightened it up substantially. I've omitted the oil for years. I use light mayo. More carrots go in. More eggs, for protein. It's still good, and indulgent, and tasty, but not what it started as. So today....vinegar and oil. The dash of sugar. Liberal salt. And real mayo, lashings of it, as the Brits would say. The result? A time machine to 1967. God was it good. Rich. Tasted SO good. But here's the amazing thing. I knew it was going to be different, so I only took a bit. That bit was more than enough.
In fact, I let my hair down a bit today, too. I had a turkey sandwich with my own home-made garlic mayo on it. (It was good). No salad. And guess what. I felt hungry afterwards, where I previously felt that a sandwich was the only thing that made me feel as though I'd had lunch and could possibly fill me up. No one stopped me from eating a salad, I just chose not to. I think I decided to let today be a day from the past, to see what it was like and how I would feel.
Well, my husband spent the evening on the couch passing gas and belching, from all the unaccustomed food and said that he might need to take a Prilosec to sleep. I have no such issues, but I will say I noticed a difference. I still feel full. In the past, I would have had that food, and more and now, instead of writing about food, I'd probably be grazing for more. The truth? I would probably manage to have another small meal before I went to bed. With dessert. That would be an important part. Okay. More truth. I might have a forkful each of a couple of things--the beans, so shoot me!, and the brown rice salad. Shoot me again. But if I ate, really ate, I'd be so uncomfortable--!
It's nice to see how far I've come. It's nice to see how the portions are sort of regulating themselves now. (Sort of). I have to be honest, though, and say that I found the case of the potato salad sort of fascinating. So is it better to make my "light" salad, so that you can have more of it, or is it better to make the retro, extremely tasty version, and be satisfied with really just a spoonful? I know why it's better, of course, and why it's more satisfying. It's the fat. The fat conveys the flavor better and the fat satiates better. I'm wondering if this isn't also sort of a part of clean eating--make more stuff with normal amounts of fat, rather than striving for absolute low-fat this and that--and let the nature of the beast dictate the amounts? However, I am well aware that it's early days. I could backslide, oh, so easily. I could be at that table, scarfing down God knows what, before I know it.
Today was interesting. I feel like we were living like Henry VIII before this. I'm surprised there's not a picture of one of us heaving a turkey leg over his shoulder. I also feel like I--not held back, because I didn't, actually, but was held back, by my new habits. I wonder how I'll feel tomorrow, but I think possibly not bad, because I was not that indulgent today.
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