Swimming was great! Nothing too revolutionary there. Note that the fancy schmancy digital scale said I was 150.6 with just a towel on, so Dan's scale is probably accurate. I guess I've just been getting fleshier and less muscular...also, food-log wise, I forgot to note that I also ate (for breakfast) a butternut squash, goat cheese, cranberry and arugula salad with honey sesame vinaigrette from Trader Joe's because I'd had it in the fridge too long and it was going bad. Also, as I type this I'm eating the last of the 2% Fage with blueberries and Kashi GoLean Crunch as a post-swim/literal midnight snack.
On the walk back to the catsit, I was thinking about this essay somebody'd posted to Facebook a couple of days ago. It was something like "6 Ways to Be Happy, Now!" and there was nothing hugely mind-blowing there, either. But there was one bullet point that went: "Stop spending money on things and start spending money on experiences."
The idea is that the excitement of having a shiny new flatscreen TV will not last nearly as long as the joyful memories of a 3-day weekend vacation somewhere. You can dine out on that experience for weeks or years, depending on what you make of the trip, whereas the TV has a finite amount of enjoyment it can bring you, no matter how long it lasts. Don't buy the CD, buy the concert tickets. Don't buy the new dress, take yourself to that new Broadway show.
I immediately considered that treating oneself to an especially delicious or indulgent meal of course falls under the "experience" category. It might be gone within minutes, but you'll remember the tastes, the flavors, the ambiance. The sensation of taste is one of the most important avenues to enjoying life, in my opinion.
But on the walk back from swimming, I starting thinking about cost/benefit. What if the "cost" is not dollars, but calories? Let's say I get a couple of cheat meals on my 30x30 plan. Once in a while, if something is really worth it, I won't beat myself up about cheating, because it's inevitable and even desirable if one believes that it wards off bingeing. Now, I'm someone who links food to reward or mollification all the time. But now, if I'm allowed to eat a cup of ice cream if I so desire, do I want to spend ("waste"?) that allotment on "I came home after a long shift and I was tired and mad about life and my legs hurt, so I ate some Ben & Jerry's"? Or do I save it until I'm out to dinner on a fabulous date at a restaurant that is fabled for its handmade ice cream? Do I eat fried ice cream from a Thai food tent at a street fair (this HAPPENED last Saturday), because I'm at a street fair and gross street fair food is sometimes fun and the best, or do I walk on by and wait until I'm visiting San Francisco and we need to go to Bi-Rite Creamery?
I make excuses to eat terrible and too much food all the time under the guise of special occasion. My friend is visiting, it's my birthday, I'm at a special event and someone else is paying. I have to up the standard of the kind of experience that warrants indulging. Do I want to waste a glass of whiskey on "I'm at the bar after a show and we're being social," or do I have a glass of water and wait until I plan a trip to Scotland and have a tasting flight of once-in-a-lifetime special spirits? Eat Spam and white rice musubi in my house, because I can and I want it, or wait until I'm actually in Hawaii and doin' it right? Does my friend's wedding count as a special enough occasion? How do I modify this if I'm visiting California for two weeks, because I surely can't repeat what happened last Christmas, when I was in CA for 17 days and gained EIGHT POUNDS.
All of this remains to be navigated. Here are the last few meals I remember being significant.
- My wonderful boyfriend and I had a date last week, where he came to the catsit neighborhood (Hell's Kitchen) and we took a leisurely walk while we decided where to go for dinner. We decided on a place called Stecchino, which had an amusing backstory and delicious Italian food. I had a plate of handmade gnocchi so good, I ate every bite even as I was getting overfull.
- I'd had a pretty rotten day and went up to see my fella late at night, and he had eggs and bacon and spicy diced tomatoes waiting for me when I walked in.
- I went to Harlem Shake and had something called a Fatty Melt, which is a patty melt where, in place of bread, the burger is sandwiched in between two thin grilled cheese sandwiches.
Now, this list doesn't include every delicious meal I've had recently, many of which have been absolutely delicious and around a memorable experience. A very close girlfriend and Boyfriend and I had an incredible brunch at Kitchenette, involving french toast and biscuits and homemade turkey sausage. She and I plopped down in front of the Met and had hot dogs with everything, sitting on the steps. Boyfriend and I ate yummy takeout food at the home of his friend after he'd seen me perform for the first time. Back in California, on the drive up from San Gabriel to Oakland, girl friend and her friend and I made a pit stop for lunch in the middle of nowhere. But in many of these cases, the food itself was unmemorable. It was what was happening that was significant. I don't even remember what I ate at that diner on the road trip.
So either a) the meal has to be one-of-a-kind and opportune, or...actually, maybe that's it. Substitute any other kind of food into those experiences and we'd still have the important part. Close girlfriend and Boyfriend met. Girlfriend and I went to the Met and then chilled out. Girlfriends and I took a road trip. Just because it's delicious and may add to the experience doesn't mean it MAKES the experience. At least, not every time.
This was long and inconclusive, but hell. Nobody's making you read it.
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