What I Learned Eating Multiple Croissants and Chicken Salads on the Same Week
I am not scared of croissants anymore. I love them and they are not off-limit; eating one for breakfast does not make me shameful. Yet, this week I ate two on the same morning. I started with one, accompanied with some spring mix leaves, strawberries and avocado (my mom says I am the only one who eats croissants with avocado and strawberries but it is so good). I finished it and was not full, and before my pride could stop me, I cut another one in half and ate it the same way. I was satisfied now, but not exactly full. When I returned to the kitchen to wash my dish, I saw the other half sitting sadly on the cutting board. "Why would you leave that half to go to waste?" I asked myself. A tiny voice yelled at me: "Because you already ate one and a half! You do not want more, stop following your impulse! Think of the fat! The calories!" My hand ignored the little voice and before it could get louder, I ate the last half.
Then, I felt a weird combination of emotions. I was proud of myself for not judging the croissant and just eating intuitively whatever I wanted. I smiled and laughed. Then, my stomach tickled with anxiety. It was the signal that the little voice in my head would grow louder any minute, and yet I was determined to ignore it.
Throughout the day, thoughts of calories and fat came back to me like ocean waves, spinning me out of my steadiness in the sand. I swam against them multiple times, and every time they took me back to the shore. Yet, every time I looked at the mirror in the bathroom, checking my abs uncounsilouly, I noticed that I still looked thin and "fit". I also noticed that my stomach did not hurt or growl all morning. I felt really full for a couple of minutes, which increased the regret of eating "too much", but nothing hurt. I even went to the bathroom like a normal person for the first time in days (gross fact, I know, but I must be honest).
Eventually, I began wondering: if I "ate too much", "had too much fat", and "had too much flour", why do I feel so good? Why doesn't my stomach hurt like other mornings when I eat "normal portions" or "healthy breakfasts"? Why am I not bloated or constipated?
The questions made me realize that I had made too big a deal about the croissants. It demonstrated me that they are not harmful and that my prejudice was ridiculous. Perhaps my impulse in eating so much was more of a challenge to my inner voice, rather than a desire for the croissant itself.
Lately that same day, I had my usual salad for dinner. Just a small but satisfactory salad with chicken, spring mix, tomatoes, corn, spinach, cucumbers, and mustard. It was delicious, but it made my stomach hurt a little while I finished. I fell too full afterward--more than with the croissants--and I felt and looked bloated. So, I the waves of doubt came back: "If this is healthy and nutritious, why does my stomach reject it?" "If veggies are whole, natural ingredients, why do I feel so uncomfortable and bloated?"
The same occurred another night the same week. My pride was not only hurt for eating the two croissants but for accepting that chicken salads at night are not the perfect choice. I ate another croissant two weeks later, a little nervous about another episode of impulse, but since I accompanied it with scrambled eggs and berries, I felt full enough to only eat one intuitively. I ate more salads at night since then, and I still enjoy the heck out of my veggies when I crave them, but now I understand that food is not entirely black or white, and my body is not a predictable machine that I can control. I still struggle with its reactions and preferences, but I try every day to eliminate my prejudices and rules, to stop trying to control the unpredictable waves and give in to their swing.
Then, I felt a weird combination of emotions. I was proud of myself for not judging the croissant and just eating intuitively whatever I wanted. I smiled and laughed. Then, my stomach tickled with anxiety. It was the signal that the little voice in my head would grow louder any minute, and yet I was determined to ignore it.
Throughout the day, thoughts of calories and fat came back to me like ocean waves, spinning me out of my steadiness in the sand. I swam against them multiple times, and every time they took me back to the shore. Yet, every time I looked at the mirror in the bathroom, checking my abs uncounsilouly, I noticed that I still looked thin and "fit". I also noticed that my stomach did not hurt or growl all morning. I felt really full for a couple of minutes, which increased the regret of eating "too much", but nothing hurt. I even went to the bathroom like a normal person for the first time in days (gross fact, I know, but I must be honest).
Eventually, I began wondering: if I "ate too much", "had too much fat", and "had too much flour", why do I feel so good? Why doesn't my stomach hurt like other mornings when I eat "normal portions" or "healthy breakfasts"? Why am I not bloated or constipated?
The questions made me realize that I had made too big a deal about the croissants. It demonstrated me that they are not harmful and that my prejudice was ridiculous. Perhaps my impulse in eating so much was more of a challenge to my inner voice, rather than a desire for the croissant itself.
Lately that same day, I had my usual salad for dinner. Just a small but satisfactory salad with chicken, spring mix, tomatoes, corn, spinach, cucumbers, and mustard. It was delicious, but it made my stomach hurt a little while I finished. I fell too full afterward--more than with the croissants--and I felt and looked bloated. So, I the waves of doubt came back: "If this is healthy and nutritious, why does my stomach reject it?" "If veggies are whole, natural ingredients, why do I feel so uncomfortable and bloated?"
The same occurred another night the same week. My pride was not only hurt for eating the two croissants but for accepting that chicken salads at night are not the perfect choice. I ate another croissant two weeks later, a little nervous about another episode of impulse, but since I accompanied it with scrambled eggs and berries, I felt full enough to only eat one intuitively. I ate more salads at night since then, and I still enjoy the heck out of my veggies when I crave them, but now I understand that food is not entirely black or white, and my body is not a predictable machine that I can control. I still struggle with its reactions and preferences, but I try every day to eliminate my prejudices and rules, to stop trying to control the unpredictable waves and give in to their swing.
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