Hurry up and weight

Today at work, we had a lunch meeting whereby a supplier came in to pitch their goods.  And they brought lunch.  Those bastards...

They set up the piles of evil in our boardroom - 2 massive platters of assorted sandwiches and a fashionably rectangular plate of dessert cake things.  There may have been salad and fruit, who knows...

We have these meetings every now and then and it's nice that lunch is supplied, but when a girl has been soooo good for a mere 1-1/2 weeks, she's weak.  Really weak.  Like "oh my god, it's focaccia" weak.  And a funny thing happens when you start cutting back on the carbs; you can smell them.  All of a sudden, your olfactory nerves go into hyper-drive and you can sniff the yeast, inhale the sugar and herbs and salts.  And those smells act as conductors for other smells - cheese and roast beef, pastrami and arugula, temptation and sin.  The visual impact is enormous as well.  Fresh and colourful, the olive oil still providing a glisten to the purely ornamental leafy greens housed between marble rye.  Ever really look at marble rye?  It's trippy.

These meetings last an hour and it's rude to munch while someone is talking so, without even a thought, I ploughed through 2 full sandwiches.  It may not sound like much, but each half was the size of my hand and piled at least 2 inches high.  Deliciousness was registered for a mere second as I shoveled the Devil's deli into my maw.  Good, good, good, more, more, more.  And then I was done.  The meeting started at 12:05.  I wiped my mouth at 12:12.

What had I done??  I looked around the table at my colleagues and they were still taking dainty bites of their sandwiches (one per person. Grrrrr..) Then I looked down at my empty plate and carried my eyes down to my tummy.  All the goodies I had just consumed would soon be reaching their destination and would take up residence in my flotation device of a stomach.  And they would start calling their friends, "Hey fettuccine!  She's ready for us, man.  Gather up the boys and bring some beer.  Part-ay!"

I felt crappy and miserable.  The pitch meeting over (they looked like nice people. A PowerPoint presentation.  Something about telephones...), I went back to my desk and dwelled on the lunch meeting all freakin' day.  And I'm still dwelling on it now.  Ok, lesson, lesson, what do I do here on out?  Aw gee, I so know this...

Conscious eating!  Slow, chew-it-for-godssakes eating.  Your brain needs a little bit of time to register that it's tasty (and enjoy that bit. Some higher power put thought into that tomato) and that there is actually food going into you and the slower and more mindful you are, the more receptive you'll be to your brain saying, "OK, you've had enough.  Put the fork down, Tiny."

You know how I've been having lunch away from the chair?  Well, I've been having it in our lunchroom (I thought it was an area built large enough for the coffee line-up...hey, there's a table and chairs and everything!).  I go there to eat, no distractions, and I actually take time.  I'm joined by some of the gang, we talk between bites and *POW*, it takes me 35 minutes to eat a salad.  And I hear my brain saying, "Damn that was good!" and "Yow, I'm stuffed!"  All those scientists and nutritionists were right.  Who woulda thunk?

I just gotta slow down and think.  And be mindful.  And to help me on my way, I'm going to bring along Michael Pollan. The author of "In Defence of Food" and "Omnivore's Dilemma" has just come out with a slim volume entitled "Food Rules-Tips for Eating Healthily".  I love this guy - he doesn't speak from a gastro-pulpit.  He's tall and kinda looks like Michael Caine - if Mr.Caine was bald. To my mind, he is one sexy beast 'cuz he's smart.  And he makes nutritional advice make sense.  For instance - if it comes through your car window, it's not food. Sounds reasonable to me.  Here he is talking with George Stephanopolous:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/01/14/michael-pollans-food-rule_n_423393.html

I'm buying it.

That's right, I'm gonna get me a present for being bad.  And why?  Because I'm being kind to myself and there's no better way to take care of me than to arm myself from future pitch meetings.

LiliLaLarge