food

We had a brush-up rehearsal for our show tonight, which meant that we ran through the thing at about half the emotional intensity. I'm usually starving after work, and I don't have a bunch of stuff at the apartment, so after the run I went to IHOP. I kept thinking about eggs as I drove over, and I was determined to order something (a) healthy and (b) inexpensive.

So what did I order?

Chicken-friend steak with three eggs and three pancakes. And a carafe of coffee (decaf). Seventeen bucks with tip.

And...I feel like crap.

I always do this. I always try to eat with the idea of eating healthy foods that will fuel my body and keep me slim. My taste buds, however, somehow seem to circumvent the process and take control just as I'm ordering. That's why I've been on a fast-food jag the last week or so.

It's a constant battle. I love food. I love eating out, and I love cooking, and I love watching cooking shows, and I love reading restaurant reviews...I just think all of it is great. I wish I could just eat what I want all of the time.

Then, I snap back to reality.

First of all, I'm single. I think that my chances of finding an attractive mate rise as my stomach flattens. So there's that. There's also a history of high blood pressure in my family. Most importantly, right now, is that men in my family, when they reach their early-to-mid-thirties, tend to put on weight. And I can't play the kinds of roles that I'm playing now if I'm carrying around thirty extra pounds.

So I try to watch what I eat.

And I try to go to the gym.

And I beat myself up when I fail at those two tasks.

This week? I've been to the gym once (yesterday) and I've had fast food multiple times. You can guess how my psyche feels.

Time to drink water and cleanse myself...