Here I am again, at the Triple-O’s counter.
“One Sunny Start meal, please.”
“What drink would you like?”
“Yes, I’d like a hash brown instead of fries so I can shove it in the burger and taste all of that deliciousness at once.”
I am now salivating, like The Big Bad Wolf when he first meets Red Riding Hood.
“Yes, I’d like some poutine. You see, I do like chips with gravy and that extra cheese just really complements the dish.”
“Let’s just see how I go.”
“Have here or take away?”
“I’d like to dine in, please.”
“How do you feel?”
“But are you eating all this delicious junk because you’re feeling something you don’t want to deal with? I mean, there’s plenty of healthy food just over there. There are more sensible ways to live, you know.”
“I don’t know if this is the right job for you.”
I have realised that I am one of many who, when they start to feel a little bit off, tend to get rid of that feeling by going munchy munchy munchy on some delicious no nos. I am not here to tell you whether this is a good or bad thing (although we all know already) or to make a resolution to change it; I am just acknowledging that fact.
A while ago when trying to create a baby, I discovered that my sperm count was not what is generally considered exemplary. “Right,” thought I. This can be turned around with a bit of healthy eating and exercise. Before I know it, the little fellas will be charging up and down the pool like Michael Phelps.
So I cut out all naughty food, ate extremely healthily, took supplements and exercised regularly. The result was that six months later I was getting a lot of worried comments about how emaciated I looked and when I did my second test, my swimmers couldn’t manage so much as a doggy paddle. They had actually deteriorated in quality. I was so disappointed in them. I mean, after all I had done for them. In fact, the sperm doctor said that with my swimmers, we had a 3% change of conceiving naturally within the next two years.
My wife and I decided at this point that IVF was the best option available. We went in, did all the stuff that needed to be done and, thankfully, it worked. It was quite a stressful process, to put it mildly, and once it was over I said goodbye to Healthy Man and hello to Hungry Man. After living on lentils and brown rice for six months and not eating any (ANY!) fast food for over a year, this little boy went to Macca’s.
“Oooh, that was quite nice.”
I was quick to return.
“I say, I do quite enjoy the McCrispy Chicken burger. Perhaps I’ll have another.”
These little visits, along with others treats such as the famed ‘Pringella’ (Nutella spread between two Sour Cream and Onion Pringles) quickly became staples in my diet. This thoughtless gobbling is particularly frequent if anything even mildly stressful is going on, like the birth of a child, report-writing deadlines or Mondays. What started as a cheeky little treat quickly became habit and the joy of gluttony was replaced by simply ‘eating’. Does this sound familiar to anyone?
It’s a bit over a year since Conception Day and I have continued face-stuffing at every opportunity. I am now 11 kilograms heavier than Skinny Nick, and while people would say I look healthier, I dare say I’ve overshot the mark by about 5 kilograms. I even had someone comment on the ‘skinny jeans’ I was wearing the other day. They were not skinny jeans, at least not when I bought them.
So now I find myself contemplating doing the healthy thing again. Ugh. I’m not quite sure how I feel about that. I think I know what will help me mull it over, though.