How's It Possible?

I woke up this morning hungry. As usual. I went downstairs, did a bit of strength training, some sit-ups and leg/butt lifts. Felt the burn, but no cardio. I showered quickly so I could get my Bagel Thin and peanut butter inside my rumbling tummy and then polished off some grapes on the way to work.

Ate Subway veggie sub and Sun Chips for lunch.

By 5 p.m., on my way home from Madison, my stomach was grumbling audibly. I had nothing in the car to nosh on and just enough restraint to not stop at a convenience store. But by the time I got home, I couldn't shove stuff in my mouth fast enough. Carrots and dip. Two big pretzels. Two pieces of chocolate.

Then Jim came home. He'd been working all day in the wind, shoveling and spreading mulch, moving a big pile of rocks, from softball to basketball size. And he mowed. And weeded.

In other words, he was MUCH more active than me.

So here we are, at 6:30, trying to get dinner on the table. He says he's hungry. And I ask what he ate all day.

He says, "Nothing."

"Nothing?" I reply, just can't get my head around that.

"No, nothing," he says. "I was working. When I'm working, I don't think about eating."

"Don't think about it?:" I ask. "It never crosses your mind or ..."

"I just don't want to take the time to eat," he says.

What the hell? I can't comprehend this AT ALL. I would love to have that brain for just one month. Or maybe one year.

In the end, food is fuel. You need it, but it's still just fuel. It's not your enemy. It's not your friend. It's not your addiction. It's not good or evil. It's just food.

And when you think you're "powerless" against it, you're wrong. You always have a choice.