I have a somewhat unhealthy addiction to fried food.
My heaven would literally consist of macaroni and cheese between two toasted pieces of buttery, sourdough toast, some corn dogs, chicken fingers heavily dunked in ranch, and double doubles galore from In’n’Out, along with a hefty side of french fries and mojos from Shakey’s pizza.
And also, lots of Shakey’s Pizza. It’s what my shiny, happy, impulse brain wants.
But if there’s one thing I learned about living from my twenties, it’s don’t listen to what your brain wants. And maybe only half listen to those shiny, happy impulses.
I get it. Health is important, and healthy food even tastes really good sometimes. But it’s either I’m craving a triple decker burger with the works and cheese-lathered french fries, or I’m craving the crunchiest chocolate chip cookie after a healthy ass meal. It’s always one of the two.
I can’t stand craving sugar after a healthy meal, but that one is worse than the cheese-lathered french fries. I literally have to lie to my brain by telling myself I already ate the damn cookie or more food. And it’s horrible because you’re so damn itchy and antsy and you can’t sit still and you can’t abolish this craving that seems to come from deep down inside of your soul until you actually satisfy it.
I used to think this sugar craving had something to do with eating salty foods in general, but I also think it’s an adrenal thing. Something about craving carbs and crap signifies adrenal failure I hear. But cross check that one with the internet.
Here’s where the learning comes in for today, 28 days before 30 – those cravings? Their kryptonite is time. Wait them out. Twirl your hair, walk in circles for a bit, put on a One Direction song. Do whatever you have to do to wait them out because they go away only when you wait them out.
Literally, 20 minutes ago I finished some small, paltry meal from Healthy Choice. It was chicken and vegetables. Yeah, it was healthy, but I was starving afterwards still. (STARVING!) After coming off of a weekend chock full of Chipotle and Mr. Pizza, it was a bit of a drag. I have to re-train my stomach to be satisfied with small portions, somehow.
How do people do these impossible things?
Guzzling large amounts of water helps.
The same goes for things. Impulse buys. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve really REALLY needed that dress in Target, or that Copy Cure class offered by Marie Forleo. I’m talking about literally buying it even if I don’t have the money. Which is not financially wise.
But it’s that shiny, happy impulse brain again, which always seems to tell me I NEED things. Not only do I need them, but I need them NOW. It could also be the ego or something.
Whatever, use your kryptonite to blow that shit to smithereens – wait it out. Do you remember that hip hop song, Walk it Out by Unk? Like that but wait instead of walk.
And if you do walk, just leave the store. Pretend you’re definitely coming back tomorrow to buy it, and wait it out. If by the time you get home you can’t stop thinking about it, or even by the next morning you can’t stop thinking about it, then maybe you might need it a little bit. But if you forget about how badly you NEEDED it while you were about to buy it, pat yourself on the back for making a smart money decision.
It’s like there’s some sort of spell that gets cast over you when you’re in a department store. I’ve seen this kind of black magic at Target. Where you’re eyes get all misty and you see some fake orchid for $28 and think, oh now this would look awesome right near the front door on the entry table. This would make my whole apartment shine, and everyone would walk in the door thinking wow, that orchid REALLY makes the place! And dawgonnit people would like me.
It’s like, what kind of air is this?
Just wait it out. And when you can’t wait it out, and you really have have to go for it ask yourself this question before every lump of cookie dough you wrap your sweaty fingers around – who really wants this? Is it the real me, or the GIMME GIMME me? Is this something that’s going to nourish me? Is this something that’s going to make a real difference in my life? The world? What else could this money be spent on? Did I really just throw away an hour’s worth of work on a fake plant? Who the hell am I talking to, anyway?
Oh that’s right, your future thirty self.
Your twenties can be full of impulses, and sometimes they’re telling you to move across the country, other times they’re telling you to shove a chili dog in your face after three vodka lemonades and a tequila shot, but the good news is things settle down. Wait them out.
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