My last two posts have focused on my most recent appointment with my dietician/psychologist… during which I received some ‘instructions’:
- No ‘danger’ food, which for me is currently rice cakes (or corn chips now to a lesser extent) and Easter Eggs/ chocolate – because moderation is impossible I jump straight to over-eating or binge-eating
- Mindful eating – breaking some bad habits of eating in front of television and the like and a focus on ‘treats’.
I had been meticulously planning my Easter Egg consumption so was less-than-impressed with the therapist’s edict. My response was obvious, although she pointed out that – in particular after the ‘no Easter Eggs’ announcement – I shrunk down into my chair and started chewing on my fingernails.
To me it was a nervous, contemplative habit – I was in shock and withdrawing into a little cocoon; but to her I was reverting to child-like behaviour. She even chuckled at how obvious it was.
I’ve already admitted that in disbelief I tried querying her (*possibly* in a whiny voice and with a pout), suggesting that I start “Monday”, or ‘tomorrow’. (After all, I needed those bloody Easter Eggs!)
When she refused this (perfectly reasonable) request I shrunk in further down into the chair – *possibly* looking at her dolefully through wide innocent eyes – still in disbelief (and even more possibly, terror)!
She told me that my transformation into a petulant child was ‘most interesting’ (in the way a scientist examines a frog splayed on a cutting board!).
Could it be that I let my ‘inner child’ influence my mad monkey mind? Could that same inner child, who is constantly screaming for treats, be manipulating my own inner critic – (the aptly named) Myra – who delights in dissing my dreams of eating healthily and stomping on my aspirations of normality, convincing me that I’m ‘allowed’ to eat whatever I want and there will be no repercussions?!
I have to confess I’m not sure how I will go on the no-Easter Egg issue. I LOVE Easter, in fact I actually wrote about my lifelong romance with Easter a couple of years ago here in my other blog.
But chocolate eggs and the like aside, I do intend to be more conscious of the whining ‘What about me?’ victim-like child’s voice that bleats constantly in my head. I’m a 44yr old woman for f*ck’s sake; and it’s time I acted like it!