It can’t be done. Short post.
Since I decided to care about how I eat, I’ve struggled with the concept of the so-called “cheat meal.” While the pragmatist in me appreciates these regularly scheduled moments of debauchery, the perfectionist laments that A) I need them in the first place and B) protests that if it’s bad for your body, why should you do it at all? Even the terminology troubles me. “Cheat.” Cheating is bad! What else could we call it? “Treat,” perhaps, but that is no less needy. “Congratulate yourself for eating well most of the time by eating badly!” I am not my students; I shouldn’t have to bribe myself with candy (my apologies to parents and dentists).
Have you really thought about it, though? Why is it impossible to eat well 100% of the time? Why would you want to do anything bad to the body that gets you around and more? Moreover, as a Christian I think to myself, “Well, Christ is living here so I want my blood vessels to be like, pristine and stuff.” I want to keep the place nice! Being a little bad is better than being bad most of the time, I suppose, but that doesn’t make it good. Is it merely because we are surrounded by crap and love people who eat crap that we must make room for crap in our diets?
I suppose that the numbers dropping on the scale indicate that I am, indeed, getting away with cheating, but it still makes me uncomfortable. This is how fattest Lady J ate. Just 100% of the time as opposed to 3 out of 35 weekly meals. Plus, I still don’t like my body. C’est la vie!