The words Clean Eating actually terrify me. Terrify in the truest sense of the word, meaning the color drains from my face, my mouth is dry as cotton, and I'm probably more fidgety than Barty Crouch. It makes me feel like I'm supposed to be on a strict, no fun, no experimenting, bland egg white and oranges, diet. As a person who loves food, truly loves it, there are no words more terrifying to me than C L E A N E A T I N G. My mind starts whirling and I get images of high protein- no carb diets, sweet potatoes and other things I don't particularly like.
I love food. I love my veggies, I love carbs, I love sweets, and I especially love salt. The problem with Clean Eating isn't what the name implies, but the rigid expectations I tend to set for myself when I use the phrase.
I always say to myself, Okay, this is it, I'm going to eat clean and never mess up. Then, that's when all the weight will come off. It's my own personal mantra for failure. I make a plan to eat clean, worry about breaking it and slipping, inevitably I do break it, and then I quit. This cycle happens to me in various phases: sometimes within mere meals of starting, other times I can go days or even weeks. But I always manage to slip up, and then I quit. I quit because I think that if I can't stick to something, I shouldn't be doing it at all.
You're not ready. You don't have time. What the hell is clean eating anyways?! All things that I've said to myself in various stages of my clean eating failure.
But I've realized, throughout this year, with the great help of my friends, that mistakes are OK. That when it comes to riding the bike, you have to learn how to pedal first. That first phase of getting on your bike are the absolute hardest. I remember it in detail:
God, you think to yourself, It's awfully strange getting on this contraption with two wheels. What if it doesn't hold me? (A question I always, forever, unfortunately ask myself) What if I can't control it? What if I fall? What if I get hurt? I hate getting hurt.
I remember my dad telling me that it was okay if I got hurt because in order for me to learn, a few bruises and scrapes were necessary. He always said that it's okay to fall and get hurt as long as you don't cry about it for too long.
The same philosophy, I have realized should be applied to the way I view myself, my weight, my eating habits, and everything else in life. "It's a learning process" as my dad would say.
So today, on this beautiful Friday in May, I am going to start applying this philosophy to my eating. It's okay if I mess up. It's okay if I had olive oil in my omelet. It's okay if I eat cheese. It's okay, as long as I understand that I need to begin to hold myself accountable for these actions.
If I want a piece of cheese, I'll have it. But maybe I'll skip that slice of Pepper Jack on my dinner sandwich.
I love food. I love my veggies, I love carbs, I love sweets, and I especially love salt. The problem with Clean Eating isn't what the name implies, but the rigid expectations I tend to set for myself when I use the phrase.
I always say to myself, Okay, this is it, I'm going to eat clean and never mess up. Then, that's when all the weight will come off. It's my own personal mantra for failure. I make a plan to eat clean, worry about breaking it and slipping, inevitably I do break it, and then I quit. This cycle happens to me in various phases: sometimes within mere meals of starting, other times I can go days or even weeks. But I always manage to slip up, and then I quit. I quit because I think that if I can't stick to something, I shouldn't be doing it at all.
You're not ready. You don't have time. What the hell is clean eating anyways?! All things that I've said to myself in various stages of my clean eating failure.
But I've realized, throughout this year, with the great help of my friends, that mistakes are OK. That when it comes to riding the bike, you have to learn how to pedal first. That first phase of getting on your bike are the absolute hardest. I remember it in detail:
God, you think to yourself, It's awfully strange getting on this contraption with two wheels. What if it doesn't hold me? (A question I always, forever, unfortunately ask myself) What if I can't control it? What if I fall? What if I get hurt? I hate getting hurt.
I remember my dad telling me that it was okay if I got hurt because in order for me to learn, a few bruises and scrapes were necessary. He always said that it's okay to fall and get hurt as long as you don't cry about it for too long.
The same philosophy, I have realized should be applied to the way I view myself, my weight, my eating habits, and everything else in life. "It's a learning process" as my dad would say.
So today, on this beautiful Friday in May, I am going to start applying this philosophy to my eating. It's okay if I mess up. It's okay if I had olive oil in my omelet. It's okay if I eat cheese. It's okay, as long as I understand that I need to begin to hold myself accountable for these actions.
If I want a piece of cheese, I'll have it. But maybe I'll skip that slice of Pepper Jack on my dinner sandwich.
You're such a wonderful writer, Esha! I'll be sure to follow your blog this summer. I know you'll get such amazing results if you keep up this great attitude :) I re-did my comment because it looked ugly before...
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