I Do Not Mind.
I know that I am the only one who cares about my own eating habits.
My kids do not care. I can’t tell you how little my kids care about my eating habits. I think they are happy that I am substantially less irritable now, but they don’t realize that it’s a direct result of changing my eating habits.
Bill does not care. He cares about me, perhaps, and he will even cook whatever I ask. I suppose that is better than 99% of husbands out there. But since he eats whatever he wants, whenever he wants and slurps it down while sitting right next to me – I know that I am 100% on my own in this house.
My parents care that I am healthy, maybe more than anyone in the world. They ask about my health, but they don’t often ask about my food issues. It’s a lot to follow, especially since I’ve been on so many different food plans. Instead, they bring over baked goods and say, “We know you can’t eat these, but we thought Bill would enjoy them.” And then Bill, of course, enjoys them. Shane and Dylan also enjoy them. They all really enjoy them.
I cannot eat them. I cannot eat much of anything.
I have one friend – she knows who she is – who actually cares about what I eat, at least in as much as she thinks about me while she is eating. To be fair, this friend does not live with me, and probably likes me more because she doesn’t have to live with me. I am high maintenance.
But she remembers many of the crazy twists and turns my diet has taken in the past five years, which is incredible. Sometimes she remembers things I don’t even remember. And when she takes a bite of something I can’t eat, she actually wonders aloud if I mind.
I do not mind.
In fact, I don’t mind that my parents bring over treats for Bill and Shane, or that Bill eats a cup full of chocolate sauce at 10:00 at night.
It’s like the years when I worked as a cashier at an amusement park. On the first day, I realized there was a ton of money in my hands. Immediately after noticing the money, I realized that it wasn’t mine and it would never be mine. I didn’t suddenly feel robbed because it wasn’t my money. I just noticed that it was money.
That’s how I feel now about the food I can’t eat. It’s just food.
Now that I am eating based on what it says in my personalized the LEAP plan – exactly what I can and can’t eat – my body isn’t screaming for sugar. It isn’t asking for things I “can’t” have. I am just eating when I am hungry, and moving forward with my life.
But I am doing it alone.
I have just realized, at the age of 56, that I am totally on my own here. My health is my health, and I am the only one who is going to care enough about my own body to feed it properly.
Still, it is nice having that one friend who asks me about it when we’re together. And it is nice knowing that I can write about it whenever I want, and anyone who reads my blog can just scroll through – or skip this one – and I will never even know.