I’m so GLAD that my fundraiser ends tomorrow. These long days and crazy schedule are just killing me. I’m so tired.

Want some cheese with that whine? YES PLEASE.

Anyway, now that my pity party is over, I can move on to the awesome news that this week’s weigh-in has me at 186.6! That’s almost a pound loss! Yay!

I usually weigh in on Friday mornings, but I have to be to work at 6:30am tomorrow for the last day of fundraiser madness and there’s no way I need another thing to deal with. So today is it. Good – then I feel like I can have some wine tonight and not affect my weigh in. Alcohol does that to me.

But I digress…

Here’s what went down yesterday:

Jalapeno and cheese bagel from Einstein with cream cheese, banana

Enchilada casserole with light sour cream, organic fruit rope

Edamame, a few dried cherries

Dinner was wierd – just wasn’t feeling it. I made baked “fries” which i ate a few of, baked cod (which I had about three bites of), roasted okra (YUM, I mostly at this) and some fresh guacamole that I topped the fish with – avocado, cilantro, jalapeno, onion, tomato (only had two bites). I did have wine though. So basically wine and okra. Dinner of champions.


On a totally random note, I did some thinking yesterday. Always dangerous, but I’m a very analytical person. Too much so.

And I was looking inward, wondering why it is that I focus on food so much. I wish I knew the answer to this. I feel anxious about food and I think about it all the time.

I wish I was one of those people who sees food as fuel and nothing more. Not love, not entertainment, not social – just fuel. But alas, that’s just not who I am. And I love good food. I think it’s one of the most simple, best joys in life. So is wine. 🙂

Thing is, after breakfast, I’m counting down to lunch. And after lunch, I’m counting down to snacks and dinner. Why? I wish I could just be like – Oh my gosh, it’s 8pm and I haven’t eaten yet! (Quel horror!)

I don’t think that’s EVER happened. Ever.

I think that maybe one of the reasons that I’m like this is because it’s the one thing in my day that gives me real joy. How sad is that? It’s also the one thing that varies day to day.

See, real life…it’s boring. Day in, day out, same thing, different day. That’s pretty much how I feel about it.

My job is okay. It pays the bills and the people are pretty nice. Am I stimulated and feel like I’m doing what I was meant to? Um, NO. Not by a long shot.

I would LOVE to spend time going to a yoga studio, working out, stretching, etc. because I love those things. But instead of being a source of joy, it’s a source of stress to fit it into my already jam-packed schedule. And I’m tired. That doesn’t help.

There’s always cleaning to do, always bills to paid, always errands that need to be run – it’s real life. That’s just how it. But it has this sameness that bores me to tears.

Even family – my daughter, who is the center of my world is tired when she gets home from school and just wants to veg too. I do engage her in games, reading, etc. but I feel like I’m not making the most of my time with her because in my head, there are a million things I could be doing to be productive instead of playing with Barbies. I want to be able to fully engage with her and not worry about anything else. I think that perhaps this is what makes me the most sad.

Thankfully, I have a very understanding and devoted husband because I’m so exhausted by the time we get Meghan in bed that I just have nothing left in me. I have to sleep. I literally can’t even keep my eyes open. I wish I had more to give him.

Food fills that gap for me. Not only do I absolutely LOVE cooking, but I love feeding others and feeling like I made a difference in their day with my meal. It’s a source of love, entertainment, hobby, creativity (which I so am, but have no creative outlets I have time for). I feel like it makes up for all of the shortcomings.

I realize this may sound sad or pathetic and it might be…but it’s just the way things are.

I’m really trying to understand my connection to food and why it is that my mind always goes there…I think I may be on to something.

(As a total side note, when I was a freshman in college and took Intro to Psychology, I was so smitten that I pulled my professor aside and told him that I wanted to major in psychology. My professor, Dr. Entenmann, who was about 150 years old, looked at me and said, “Jenn, people who major in psychology are always trying to figure themselves out. Can you handle that?” I thought so at the time, all 18 years old that I was. Now at 30, I’m not so sure anymore…)


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