I’m on the road this week and have the opportunity to do what I almost never do: shop for food. We keep a freezer stocked with meat, a hen house full of layers, and a pantry stocked with food co-op items. When we are really on the ball, we even have produce in our garden. (When we are not on the ball, my husband shops for groceries to fill in where we need them.)
I know that makes us sound really hard core, but we do live in the absolute middle of nowhere actually in the Sequoia National Forest. We have friends here who pretty much hunt and forage all of their food. That is what I consider to be “hardcore.” Here, “hardcore” is pretty much the only way to live. If you're not "hardcore," you could run out of food or use a full tank of gas to get some.
Now I find myself on the road, all by myself and not knowing how to behave without a kindergartener with me. I visited Costco and called a friend.
“Have you seen these bake-your-own pizzas for ten bucks? That ten bucks would buy you and I two giant meals. That’s $2.50 a meal, we wouldn’t have to cook, AND we would get to eat pepperoni pizza!”
“And did you see you can buy these giant turkey pot pies by the pound? I don’t think I’d ever bother making one myself!”
Of course, since I am attempting to be gluten-free so that if any of you ever see me in real life, I will not have the puffiness that wheat seems to bring, I passed on the pizza and pot pie.
It reminded me of last Friday night when we all sat down to watch the recording of the season premier of Lost. Someone with actual television service recorded it for us. My husband Sander brought out a bag of potato chips from Trader Joe’s. As I walked across the room for my second handful of chips, I said, “My God, I have a new understanding of the obesity problem in this country.” Those chips were good. In fact, the good tastes that can be had in the food Sander hides somewhere in his office is exactly why he’s required to keep them hidden. I struggle with contributing to national statistics as it is. I don’t need Sander’s help.
But not all “bad” food tempts me. I passed up dinner two nights ago when the only thing I could find on Highway 99 was fast food. I never really thought I would get to the point of choosing to eat nothing over choosing fast food, but here we are. (This reminds me of a classic McDonalds story involving my mother. I will have to post about it this week with all of the golden arches around.)
What I got out of the Costco experience is this important lesson: Shop as little as possible. If you bought one pizza on each trip even if the gluten turned you into a puff ball, it wouldn’t be so bad if it were only every couple of weeks. We have to set up our lives this way for lack of a grocery store near us, but you could impose the structure yourself. Whatever you do, don’t do what I did back in my 20s when we lived in apartments next to a grocery store. I shopped every single day. Because I had just given up diet sodas, I would usually walk to the 7-11 next store for a Slurpee while I was there. I showed great commitment to my health with that soda-free life.
Best of luck avoiding the temptations. I feel your pain.
