Last Friday was my husband’s birthday and I made a wonderful dinner for him. Luckily, he loves beef and spinach so his favorite meal posed no problems for me on my diet. I can’t even begin to explain what a relief that was. It was even a bonus that his favorite dessert is ice-cream, a total non-trigger for me, and I was able to serve my family their favorite dessert and I had a bowl of fat-free, sugar-free, frozen yogurt without feeling the slightest bit deprived. In fact, it felt great.

The next night I took him out for a grown-up evening without the kids and the experience of eating in a restaurant suddenly felt new for me. Or, at least I was seeing it with new eyes. Again, I’m not craving my triggers so that wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t hard at all to bypass the pastas etc. on the menu. But, what was strange for me was the fat. I ordered a chicken dish with a ton of vegetables; radishes, spring onions, spinach, arugula. It was so good. But it was all, absolutely swimming in butter.

I had forgotten what that tastes like. It was weird. It was good, but somehow it felt, unnecessary. I had to mull that for a long time before I came up with the right word: unnecessary. It just didn’t need to be that rich. The chicken and vegetables would have tasted fine without it. Now, don’t get me wrong, it was delicious. But, not really worth it. I sort of can’t believe I’m saying that.

There are recipes I’ve loved, and food blogs I’ve read faithfully for years, and now I’m kind of grossed out by the fat. Pictures of a stick of butter in a blender with herbs and spices no longer makes my mouth water. It makes me feel a little sick to my stomach. Maybe it’s psychosomatic, but I like looking at it and finding it unappealing.

Anyway, on Saturday night I had eaten a protein appetizer and a salad so by the time my entree arrived I wasn’t really hungry any more. So, I ate a little bit and then I packed up the rest and took it home. My husband ate it for lunch the next day.

Who was that who made that sane choice?


Wow. Yes. Me.

Then, last night I made a delicious mushroom bisque soup with so little fat and calories it seems impossible. Mushrooms, onions, broth, and some reduced fat sour cream. Easy, delicious, and healthy.

Something is changing within me. Something is giving me clarity and taking certain burdens of the food away from me.

Of course, I’m still paranoid that the one meal on Saturday night is going to throw off the whole week of effort and that will be reflected on the scale this week.

So, I’m not fully sane yet. Not by a long shot.

But the food isn’t calling to me again today and my perspective is shifting.

And I’m grateful.