I truly thought I had a moment of brilliance. Really.
What if I got a jumpstart on my annual New Year’s resolution to become healthier by starting a new diet in October? It made great sense to glide by Halloween without dipping my hand in any candy dish (but it didn’t actually work). Now I’m heading into Thanksgiving, a holiday that has become less about gratitude and more about extra gravy and mashed potatoes.
Currently I am attempting Dr. Joel Fuhrman’s 6 Week Eat to Live program. Imagine everything you love about food and replace it with an image of broccoli. Actually, the true problem is that I’m having various degrees of success. So the angel on my left shoulder is pleading that I’m finally getting a hold of my Diabetes, to be GRATEFUL that I might live long enough to finish writing my book. The devil on my right shoulder is shouting Feed me Seymour, Feed me BACON!
Thanksgiving is in a few weeks and I have no idea what will happen at the dinner table. I know that food is an essential part of how I process my feelings. And the stress of the upcoming holidays and my family could always be alleviated with Arby’s mozzarella sticks. I have serious doubts that carrot sticks will have the same effect. So if anyone has suggestions on how to stick to a diet during the holidays, I’m open to all ideas.
However, there has been an unexpected side effect to this “lifestyle change”. It’s leaking into my writing. Subconsciously, I have added two dinner dates into my current WIP. In one scene the heroine is slowly munching on a sensible salad while her date is devouring a steak and French fries. She might have stabbed his hand with her fork but it’s not like he’s the hero so it will all work out. Probably.