My experiment in eating less and being done eating for the day 3 - 4 hours before bedtime is working... only one episode of waking in the middle of the night with nausea this week, and that was Monday night, the night I flew home. The flight was bumpy, so I was already a little queasy when Gary picked me up at the airport at 7 p.m. I had eaten a couple handfuls of trail mix on the plane, and it didn't sit very well. Then we stopped for Arby's on the way home and my roast beef sandwich didn't sit well either. I sipped ginger ale through the evening but that didn't help. So I slept propped up on pillows until the indigestion relented at about 3 a.m.
Oh, I forgot to mention where I was flying home from... I spent last weekend in Nashville visiting with my gazelle-like daughter Sara, and her cadre of lissome friends. They all run. On Sunday, she and her pals ran 10 miles while I hung out in a coffee shop working a crossword puzzle, and puzzling as to why anyone would want to run 10 miles. My fitness routine is strictly minimalist... as in, I do the minimum to stay reasonably strong, flexible, and if I had to chase a grandkid, I probably could.
Anyway, I ate whatever I wanted during the weekend. But I intentionally ate about half of what I would have eaten a week ago... eating very slowly and stopping when satisfied... when no longer hungry but not quite full. Friday night Sara made dinner... rice, some yummy sweet and sour chicken from Trader Joe's, and steamed, buttered broccoli. Saturday night I took Sara and her new boyfriend Ian, out to a Vietnamese restaurant... I ordered a salad of rice noodles, shredded lettuce, and tangy pork, topped with a spicy spring roll and a snappy vinaigrette. It was gigantic. I ate about half of it. Sara ordered a bowl of meatball soup and Ian got a dish of curried coconut chicken. They also left about 1/2 of their food and the rest went back to Sara's in take-out boxes.
Ian, who, by the way, I was meeting for the first time, was utterly charming... and handsome...looked like he'd stepped right out of GQ. He's working on his MBA at Vanderbilt and told me all about his entrepreneurial plans to market a unique food product for runners... he's full of enthusiasm and great ideas and yes, he's also a runner. The whole weekend, I was pretty much surrounded by runners.
After we stowed our leftovers in Sara's fridge, the three of us went see a community theater production of "I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change" a hilarious (and sometimes disturbing) musical romp thorough all the stereotypical stages and ages of heterosexual relationships. Like this number: Marriage Tango where a harried, exhausted, and sex-starved couple with small children try to "get it on."
After the play, we headed back to Sara's. Ian and Sara chowed down on the leftovers from dinner along with some homemade raspberry-fudge brownies that I brought from Michigan. I made a cup of tea and went to bed. Great night's sleep. No tummy trouble.
But back to Sunday in the coffee shop... while Sara and her friends were running those 10 miles, which took about 2 hours, I sipped decaf and ate 1/2 a carrot muffin to tide me over until Sara finished her run, after which we had plans to eat breakfast together. It was close to noon before she and I chowed down on bagel sandwiches made with scrambled egg, cheddar and cream cheese, and bacon. Except I got mine with ham. I was famished and it was so delicious! Then about an hour later, the heartburn started up. A combination of factors. Waited to long to eat. Ate too fast. And it was probably a little too rich.
A few sips of Sprite helped settle my stomach, and by 5 p.m.
I was hungry again and ready to indulge in the Super Bowl chili supper awaiting us at Sara's friend Hunter's... you guessed it... he's a runner too. He had made a giant pot of
his famous chili, his girlfriend had made a pot of her special chili, both kinds were 5-alarm spicy. Sara and I brought Pizza Bread... a jelly-roll style creation made with frozen bread dough (thawed), pepperoni, and mozzarella cheese... all melty and delicious, sliced thinly and topped with a smear of
Dijon mustard.
There were also chips and guacamole... one of those 7-layer Mexican dips and cornbread and cookies. I made a plate of food, taking a little of everything. Then I helped myself to a small bowl of chili and crumbled a piece of cornbread into it. I grabbed a cold beer and sat down with my little feast to watch the game. I ate slowly, consciously enjoying every bite. It was just the right amount of food. At just the right time. And in spite of the spicy-richness, I didn't have the slightest bit of tummy trouble.
This post is one of a series titled: "Let's Eat: Befriend you Body and Your Food", posts based on my life as a disordered eater and how I finally found order—got off compulsive dieting, got on normal eating, and reached a place of peace with my body and its natural weight—which is not exactly not thin, not exactly fat—but exactly right—for me.
Enjoy your food, celebrate your body, and be healthy and happy no matter your size.
For a jolly-good cookbook, chock-full of tasty, wholesome, real-food recipes click here to order your copy of "Pea Soup: Recipes for Body, Mind, and Spirit from a 'Kitchen Table Gourmet,'" by Beth Spencer.
