We were in Louisville for a reunion with Larry’s friends from grad school. We all stayed with our friends Denny and Katie. Denny called the week before to ask Larry about “Lynn’s food.” He wanted to know what I “could” and “couldn’t” eat. Legitimate question. Larry told him to not worry about me, that I’d bring my own food, and to just reserve a corner of the grill and a burner on the stove.
Still, Denny wanted to be an accommodating host. Gotta love the guy for trying.
When we got there, I had every intention of going to the grocery store. But Denny challenged me, saying he had it all figured out.
Denny: “I made meatless lasagna.”
Lynn: “I don’t eat pasta.”
Denny: “What about bread? You eat bread, right?”
Lynn: “Um…not really….”
Lynn: “Egg whites…”
Denny: *big sigh* “Well, what about asparagus? I bought two bunches of asparagus for dinner.”
Lynn: “There are 10 of us. I eat one bunch all by myself. That would leave everyone with a stalk and a half each. I just want a salad and the soup I brought.”
Denny: “I have lettuce!”
Lynn: “Iceberg?”
Denny: “No! Real lettuce!”
Lynn: “Yay!”
He won. I didn’t go to the store.
The next morning, I asked for a sauce pan.
Denny: “For what?”
Lynn: “To boil water for tea.”
Denny: “We have a microwave.”
Lynn: “I don’t like microwaved water…”
Denny: “What the…?”
Lynn: “I can’t control the temperature. Too hot or too cold will make my tea taste funny.”
Denny: “Oh.”
Then I dug out a box of Almond Breeze.
Denny: “They milk almonds?”
Lynn: *eyeroll*
Then I dug out the jar of PB2.
Denny: *eyeroll*
I know I come across as a food nazi sometimes, but I do have a little bend in my food regimen. Really I do. For instance, I ate bread with my soup that first night and I loved every second of it. That counts as bendy.
Back to lunch. It was served in a house on the Maker’s Mark grounds. It was a small buffet so I couldn’t order anything to my specifications. Flakey buttery rolls, ham, au gratin potatoes, green beans, corn pudding and bread pudding in bourbon sauce. Hmmm…what to eat, what to eat.
As I was eating, my mind started doing this whole “You’re on vacation!” thing to me. I haven’t heard that voice in five years and it worried me a little. “Just one more bite, Lynn. That corn is goooood.” I gave in to a few extra bites, but damn, that battle in my head was loud and heated. The old Lynn wanted more, the new Lynn said no…I wanted them to both shut up and leave me alone. I was with friends in Kentucky at a distillery having lunch. I kept wondering why food has to A) enter so prominently into every moment of my day, and B) be so damned complicated?
Oh but it gets better. Larry came back to the table with bread pudding. Was never a big fan of the bread pudding and figured one bite and I’d be just fine. But that one bite was like sinking my teeth into the warmest, richest, most cinnamony bun on the planet. Let’s just say it is now on my Top 10 Evil Foods list, edging out onion rings, which has moved to position 11.
Back at Denny’s, it was time to start dinner. Everyone else was having steak. I wanted veggies and a sweet potato. Denny and I had an understanding by that point and the kitchen sharing went smoothly.
The next morning, I woke up to Denny making French toast. Not just any French toast, but OMG French Toast. I know. I had a small piece. With real maple syrup. Told you I can bend.
In the car on the way home, I ate fruit salad and baked Doritos (yup, I really did), a Subway veggie delite with no cheese, pretzels, 3 Musketeers mint minis, and a raw red pepper. I was so carbed out by the time I got home that I ate only soup and Brussels sprouts for dinner. My body told me what it needed and that I was back in full contact with it and able to accommodate it, I was happy.
I learned a lot on this vacation. I learned it’s possible to bend and not break, to have control even when letting go a little. Bending and little are the operative words. Food doesn’t have to be all or nothing. Some is also good. A little, a bite…these are the best options.
I doubt I’ve put on any weight, but I’m not going to torture myself by getting on the scale before Wednesday. I did nothing “wrong,” but I know if I see 129 or higher, I’ll do a brief why-did-you-eat-that flogging and I don’t want to go there. I’ll let the weekend, with all its food and fun and friends, be what it was.
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