The comfort of food

I have a thing for Mexican food. I absolutely love it. I could eat it every day and not get tired of it. Why is it that everything I absolutely love to eat is bad for me? There's no getting around it, Mexican food isn't healthy, at least not the way I like it. Lots of gooey, yummy cheese, delicious spicy ground beef floating in it's own grease. Enchiladas, tacos, chimichangas, fajitas, guacamole and sour cream. Refried beans covered in cheese. Tortilla chips and burn-your-tongue salsa. I love it all.

It's not that I don't like healthy food, I "like" steamed fresh veggies and fresh fruit, fish and chicken, but let's face it, I LOVE the stuff that's bad for me.

Yesterday we had a Mexican potluck at work. We rarely have potlucks, mainly because I work with mostly men, and the few women aren't the type to cook. The times we've tried to have a potluck they were a dismal failure with everyone picking up junk from the deli.

I'm not sure how it happened, but the potluck was a huge success. People that normally don't cook, actually looked up recipes and prepared a feast. A couple people even brought in crockpots filled with mouth-watering Mexican dishes. One of the guys made guacamole from scratch, another one made homemade salsa, and another one made some sort of bean dip that was to die for. Of course, there were chips, and for dessert, there was a carrot cake from Costco.

I ate very lightly with a couple small spoonfuls of the enchiladas and one tiny little taco with all the trimmings. I passed on the cake even though I love Costco carrot cake with gobs of cream cheese frosting, filled with an apricot cream filling. I listened to everyone rave about the cake as I sat there and sipped my water. I felt deprived and a little bit angry. Angry that I'm always "dieting" and always turning down wonderful food. Angry that everyone was trying to push the cake on me, "come on Diana, you can have just a little piece".

I know I can never go back to eating how I ate sixteen months ago. Filling every food fantasy in my head. Yesterday was a treat day by eating the Mexican food. That means I have to be on the straight and narrow until my Sunday weigh in at Weight Watchers.

Actually, I have to be pretty much on the straight and narrow for the rest of my life. That kind of makes me sad. A treat now and then isn't really what I want, I want it every day. I guess I want to be healthy more than I want to fill my food fantasies. Some days though, it doesn't seem worth it. Yesterday was one of those days. I felt sad, like I'd lost a good friend that had comforted me for many years and now we're barely on speaking terms.

Today is another day. I feel stronger and not missing food as much. I wonder if other people think of food like I do. The comfort, the longing.

Maybe I remember it better than it was in reality. I have a flaw where I tend to remember the good stuff rather than the bad stuff. I kind of forget about the heartburn, the aching legs, the painful joints, being out of breath walking up one flight of stairs, and the clothes.

Oh my God! How can I foget the clothes? Getting up in the mornings and dreading getting dressed because absolutely nothing fit. Wearing the same pair of pants five days in a row because they were the only pair that fit, and I refused to go shopping and face the nightmare of the three-way mirror.

Yes, it's worth it after all. Now that I remember the horror of being morbidly obese. Food was not my friend back then, more like my enemy. The comfort was temporary, only minutes, the pain and agony of the extra weight was 24/7. Food is not comfort. I'm glad I passed on the carrot cake.