When was the last time you heard a person say, or read a post stating, “Wow, I really over did it with the broccoli last night… I’m going to have to run an extra ten just to work it off.”
Let me help you, since Jesus was born that statement has never been recorded. Well, maybe in jest.
I never, as an alcoholic and before, sat down to a twelve pack of Coke with the intention of polishing it off. I have, on the other hand, sat down to a full case of beer (24 ct.) and polished it off… More than a few dozen times, as a matter of fact.
Far more likely is the person who will have two pieces of broccoli, drowned in liquid cheese, to justify three trips to the fried chicken end of the buffet… Then blame the resulting bloated cramps and swamp ass on the two pieces of broccoli that put him/her over the top. Mention of the liquefied cheese will be intentionally, accidentally left out, of course.
It is what it is.
Food addictions and alcohol/drug addictions share an intensely important trait: Self-will run riot. This is why willpower breaks down, this is why diets don’t last and why gym memberships lapse every March. Put simply, when the self-will is allowed to roam free, you’re pooched.
The assumption is often made by folks who visit my pages that I have a lot of willpower or that I have a good deal of self-control. This is far from true, in fact I’m working on scientific proof that a potato indeed has more willpower than I do. I do have discipline and that’s what keeps me out of trouble. Put in the wrong situations, I’m just as susceptible as anyone else to end up sliding my way to obesity. In fact, if I did allow that to happen, it wouldn’t even be the first time I decided to quit fighting and get fat. It would be the second. The first occurred something like 14 years ago now and I’ve yet to look back.
There is a beautiful aspect to my recovery, both from flab and from booze. I know how to quit, and I’m damned good at it. It may take me a while to get there, but once I do, I don’t go back. How? I know how to quit fighting the sickness (whether of mind or body). The correct way to quit the fight is best described as this: I know if I put myself in a position to fail, eventually I will fail. The odds are stacked against me and my recovery Kung Fu is only so good. On the other hand, if I avoid putting myself in the position to fail entirely… I win. I don’t have the fight.
Sadly, the length of time I’ve got since my last destructive idea doesn’t necessarily ensure that I’ll continue on my current path either. Like my recovery from alcoholism, my desire to stay fit and trim is based on a daily reprieve. Either I continue doing the things that keep me fit or I start sliding back to my old “stinkin’ thinkin'”.
This is the discipline…
Or maybe the fear that if I slip I just might not make it back.
You say tomato…