I’m home from work a little early after a Hannibal Lecter-like quid pro quo from my boss so I figured I’d toss off a quick post. I’m heading to dinner at a dear friend’s house tonight and am trying to curb my anxiety about being around all her delicious food AND not having enough time to exercise before I go.
My natural tendency is to say that one meal never killed anyone and that I’d make up for it with tomorrow’s workout but that kind of procrastination is what has made me and Lane Bryant BFFs. As I drove home from work I reflected on the cocktail party I survived on Wednesday night. I knew there would be tempting little hors d’oevres and plenty of booze (it was an alum event for my swanky private high school) and I knew my anxiety level was going to shoot through the roof. During the event the school’s Headmaster said that these events are great for discovering that the guy you hated in high school really wasn’t such a jerk. I beg to differ. That guy, he’s an incredible douchebag proving only that I was an excellent judge of character at the tender age of 14. Despite knowing that the arrogant gassbags in the room are their own worst enemies and not mine I still have a tendency to drink like it’s my job to quell the feelings of anxiety that creep up in these situations. At the last party my date nearly had to use a fireman’s carry to get me to the car.
I decided resolutely that this time would be different. I had a plan. First thing in the morning I sat down and planned my consumables for the day starting with the idea that I would allow myself 2 glasses of white wine at the party. I’ll interject here that Weight Watchers Online is AWESOME for these endeavors. I entered the wine in my eating plan for the day and set about planning an eating schedule and menu that would allow me to successfully avoid eating anything at the party and keep me from going over my allotment for the day. I won’t bore you with every morsel that passed these disturbingly small and thin lips obviously inherited from my grandfather Harry whose natural expression was a tight-lipped grimace. What I will tell you is that I came home from work and ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on an Arnold Sandwich thin and a handful of SnapPea Crisps and drank 2 glasses of water.
I went to the party, sweated like a whore in church (it was over 80 degrees and not air conditioned) but I didn’t eat. I was prepared, I wasn’t hungry and was determined not to eat or drink my anxiety. I had two tiny cocktails and called it a night. The asshat from high school was there and was standing shoulder to shoulder with me for quite some time without so much as breathing on me. A lovely group of beautiful and kind younger women I recognized took me into their circle, made me feel less psychotic and complimented me on how brave I was to attend alone….I assume they mean fat, unmarried and childless but it was lovely of them anyway. I said no to every pierogie, slider and tuna tartar that came my way. I considered it a win.
I guess what I’m suggesting you take from this is: Be Prepared. Whether it’s planning for an eating or drinking challenge or just sticking a Larabar in your purse (or murse if you’ve got a pair) in case things go awry and you’re faced with nothing but bad food choices. So I’m going to go hose myself off and admire the somewhat human-colored hue I’ve obtained from being outside for an hour and then eat a banana so I’m prepared to eat just enough. Then tomorrow I will exercise but not because I have anything to make up for.