Eating correctly is hard.
Profound, right? And, yes, a bit whiney, but that's another topic for another day.
But really, it is: eating correctly is hard.
Either I'm thinking about my level of hunger in relation to its nearness to the regularly appointed mealtime, or I'm thinking about the potential phanthom hunger that might be a clever disguise for sinful cravings, or I'm trying to determine if what I have available is a wise choice in relation to what I've already eaten today or my propensity for food-induced headaches or my activity level or its caloric content or it's probability to induce future cravings, and, oh yes, whether I actually like the food item or not. Then there's the thinking about grocery
shopping, planning meals in advance to avoid splurge eating on the fly, and constantly evaluating my motives for eating...or repenting for not even bothering to evaluate my motives...or for evaluating said motives, determining that I am likely craving food for sinful reasons and eating it anyway.
Getting a bag of Chee-tos out of the vending machine for breakfast or stopping by one of the 75 Popeye's Fried Chicken places I pass on my way home is SO much easier.
At least in the short term.
And in the long term...well...easy is not even close to a word that would describe that.
Close to Despair.
Those words come closer.
Sounds about a good as a basket of onion rings or a slab of chocolate cheesecake, don't it? Well it's not...and there's the kicker...the deception of it all.
That's also a topic for another day.