Stress and stress eating…

It's a food thing

Usually, when I’m stressed out, I don’t eat junk. I don’t; I drink it. My comfort food is any carbonated drink I can get my hands on, despite Coke being my favorite. And in the past two days, I’ve had enough soda to last me months. I also had pizza for lunch, and not the GF kind. And then had Cheesecake for dinner.

Now, as I sit here feeling bloated and uncomfortable, I am quietly reprimanding myself for letting the stress get to me. Especially when I know better; know that working out at the gym to loud music would be a better way of purging said stress than downing another jumbo coke from the Kangaroo.

But I couldn’t go to the gym because I had to take my dog to the vet and it took forever, and I had to cry afterward. (Hence the cheesecake for dinner. My very pregnant sister in law is brilliant for that one)

While I’m sitting here reprimanding myself, I am also reminding myself that I am human, and sometimes these things happen. I’ve been doing good so far with cleaning up my diet for the most part, and one day of bad eating isn’t going to destroy the hard work I have done. I simply took a couple of steps back. The pizza should have been gluten free, and if I skipped the actual CAKE part of the desserts I ate last night, I’d be in a much different mental space about all of this.

See, work has been stressful. A case from the past was brought up and with it comes a lot of horrible people writing horrible things on our pages. Then we had someone try to stir the pot and jump on the “Let’s hate Law Enforcement” bandwagon, and suddenly we have two kinds of people who are terrorizing us on our pages. Then the vet said the big scary “C” word that left me bawling my eyes out in front of my niece (who was adorable, telling me that it’s okay, Hocus will feel better, the doctor will make her better) and I am just done with this week.

That is no excuse to drop the ball on my fitness/diet health plan though. And while I am feeling like I need to kick my own ass for doing it, I am also realizing that sometimes things happen. All I can do is acknowledge that it happened and vow to do better. Beating myself up about it won’t fix the problem, and will make me feel worse than I already do. And let’s be real, I’m already panicking over my adorable 13 year old lab/shepherd mix who is at the vet getting x-rays and tests done to show whether or not she has a bone lesion in her knee joint or if she simply has an infection. I don’t need to fret about the two pieces of pepperoni pizza I had yesterday. I need to simply take some Gas-X, drink some water, and listen to music to help calm my nerves.


What I’m trying to say is don’t beat yourself up for silly diet mishaps. Life happens sometimes, and as long as the junk food habit isn’t something you do every day, cut yourself some slack. And cuddle your fur-babies please.


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