Once again, mistakes have been made. Namely, I let “healthy Kym,” the version of me who wants to eat right and is very committed to this goal, pack my lunch. That always seems like a great idea at 6 a.m.
Early in the day, I proudly pack spinach salad, lean cottage cheese and a tiny handful of berries barely visible to the naked eye. If I’m feeling really hungry, I might go wild and toss in a nut.
Fast forward to when the time comes to eat that meal I carefully packed hours early. At that point, I hate every bit of it. What I really want is a big ol’ sandwich, carb laden and dripping with cheese. Maybe some fruit and a side of chips. How about a burrito? Pizza? Let’s throw in a cookie for good measure.
That, however, is not what I have. I have a sad salad because I LET HEALTHY KYM pack and she is a traitor.
Adult
I’ve been cooking for over four decades. What no one tells you about the “freedom” of adulthood is that a large part of your time is spent trying to decide what you’re going to make for dinner every single night endlessly for the rest of your life.
For someone who loves to eat, I sure do hate making decisions about what to eat. Sometimes I miss the days when my mom made that decision for me.
Speaking of moms, I don’t know when it began necessary to take so many prescriptions and supplements just to hold my physical and mental health together. I remember fondly when all it took was a Flintstones vitamin washed down with Tang to keep me the picture of health.
My mom served milk, white bread and peanut butter with a side of hot dogs and canned chicken noodle soup, and I thrived. I am now on a first-name basis with pharmacy teams in two locations. I can’t skip vegetables for more than 24 hours without feeling like I may shrivel up and die of a leafy green deficiency.
Now I eat well, stay ridiculously hydrated, and if I sleep wrong, any number of random body parts will decide to ache for a week.
Still, I try. I really do. I plan meals with good health and whole foods in mind. I shop at local farm markets in season. I love broccoli, spinach, AND brussels sprouts. I do not drink sweet drinks or soda. I should be set up for success. I buy farm fresh eggs from the neighbors. I definitely felt bereft when our immediate neighbors closed their homegrown produce stand in retirement. Then again, I live six minutes from a Dairy Queen, and they know me all too well. Living well is all about balance, right?
