Chronicles of a Late Bloomer

Because sometimes I need a burger.

This picture is not staged. This plate full of food is what I actually ate for dinner tonight. No, there isn’t a bowl of fries or a milkshake hiding off camera. There is a monstrously big cup of water, though. The carrots and grapes are from my local farmer’s market (the one only 5 blocks from my house), and the burger is fixed just the way I like it — with cheese, extra sauce, hold the onions.

To me, this is a good representation of my current [lack of] eating plan. I call it, loosely, the 80-20 Rule and it’s my most powerful weapon in the battle against perfectionism. Perfectionism has long paralyzed me. The 80-20 rule is, as you may have figured out, a tool to promote permission.

I try, 80% of the time, to eat perfectly. I pass by the cake, pack my lunches, and steam broccoli for dinner. I’m mindful and careful and purposeful 80% of the time.

The other 20% of the time, I try to eat pretty well. I don’t give myself unmonitored free reign at an all-you-can-eat buffet. I just try to act differently than I would have in the past.

In the past, after a day of thinking about and salivating over the idea of a hamburger, I would have driven straight to McDonald’s. I might not have even waited until the end of the day, but taken my binge break at lunch. I wouldn’t have asked if I could afford it or ensured that I had money available. No, I would have gone straight to the nearest drive-thru and ordered not one, not always two, but sometimes three super-sized value meals. I would have eaten them in the car — inhaled them, really. I would have included 3 or 4 desserts in the order, just for good measure. Those would be scarfed with milk — my bingeing beverage of choice.

It’s all just so Freudian.

Now, though, I make those 20% choices pretty good. It does me no good to eschew the burger after craving the burger for 24 hours. By that point, this is not just a passing thing. Nor is it the universe’s representation of evil on earth. It’s just some meat on a bun. Granted, the bun is made of refined white flour, but…

• I check my wallet, and make sure I have cash to pay.
  
• I choose a restaurant that is committed to using fresh ingredients, reasonably similar to what I would eat at home.
  
• Even though the fries are made from actual potatoes, I only order the burger, knowing what potato does to me.
  
• I don’t order two or more burgers. Well, I almost do. The conversation at the menu board goes like this: “I’ll take a cheeseburger with no onions. And… um… okay make that two cheeseburgers with no onions and a… wait. No. Make that one burger. Just one burger, no onions. Awesome.” (The “Awesome.” is my little pep talk to myself.)
  
• I don’t eat it in the car. Rather, I drive home, put it on a plate, and make an actual meal of it. I consider that this meal contains a portion of meat, a carb, and should also include vegetables and/or fruits. That’s what I’m doing these days. I eat veggies. Two meals a day. And tonight I sort of felt like the lettuce and tomato on the burger wasn’t really going to be enough. It wasn’t going to get me all the way to 80-20. So, I sliced carrots.

20% of the time, I cut a smaller piece of pie. I skip the mayo. I double up on salad. 20% of the time, I slice berries into my cereal. A certain measure of freedom is built into most every healthy eating plan. In Weight Watchers, it’s the Points Allowance. I mean, if the expectation is that you are going to be perfectly perfect all the time…

…you will fail.