Stepping on my scale this morning for the first time in a couple weeks, I’m glad to see that I didn’t gain any weight while I was in Portland. I brought as much consciousness to my eating choices and this project as I could muster amidst the whirlwind of activity. I ate out much more frequently than usual – mostly because there was an incessant fruit fly problem for the first week and a half that made it all but impossible to eat in the house. We finally found the source of their nutrition – a forgotten potluck dish tucked away in an unlikely place by my mother in her confused state.
Especially at dinner, I focused on eating exactly what I wanted to eat, eating slowly and consciously enjoying each bite. A time to slow down amid the turmoil and relax, having fulfilled whatever responsibilities to others were going to be fulfilled that day.
My assessment is that I walked around the compulsive overeating hole in the sidewalk more often than I fell in, and to do that during two of the most stressful months I’ve experienced in a number of years is an accomplishment worth celebrating.
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