Last week, driving home from a playdate, with Kieran and Teyla in tow, lunchtime imminent, I couldn't find a single drive-thru restaurant that sounded good to me.
Culver's. McDonald's. Pizza Hut. Even Chick-fil-A.
(Oh wait. We don't have CFA. We eat heathen chicken. Never mind.)
They all sounded like junk. None of them tempted my palate. Not even the thought of a crispy, hot, salted French fry. Not even the siren call of a chocolate peanut butter malt. Not even my formerly beloved McChicken, which has sustained me through many a first trimester.
It no longer tempted me. I drove home and ate strawberries and yogurt for lunch.
It's a turning point, this. I have been been on a real food kick for a couple of years now. Slowly but steadily, I've cut junk food out of my diet. I replaced refined carbs with whole grain options. I stopped buying preprocessed stuff (except for Trader Joe's, because they do an amazing job of keeping even their preprocessed options fairly healthy). I buy free-range eggs and organic milk and grass-fed beef. I allow myself only one small treat a day, and even that is usually a square of dark chocolate or a slice of fruit pie.
My taste buds have finally caught up to my brain. I just don't enjoy the old stuff anymore. It isn't even hard to resist.
I've changed. Not only my habits, but my desires.
That, friends, it's true transformation.
It's something I've been thinking about lately, thanks to a post on failed New Year's resolutions from my friend Laura Parker. We are at that point in the year when so many of our bright and shiny intentions are battered and bruised. We aren't going to bed earlier. We aren't exercising much, unless you count that one week we made it to the gym and that time we chased the toddler in the Target parking lot. The only weight we've lost is from that bought with the flu. It's discouraging, especially for a optimist like me.
What I'm learning is this: True, lasting, deep change is hard. As I commented on Laura's post, it's like herding cats or swimming through Jell-O. Or both. At the same time. I think this is especially true the older we get. Our brains are wired now. It takes tremendous energy to get our synapses to move in a new direction. Habits are grooved into our gray matter, quite literally. Teaching ourselves new ways of coping, new methods of living takes time and slow-and-steady reinforcement. For most of us, change isn't overnight. We don't wake up one morning and - bam - we're different.
What I'm learning is this: True, lasting, deep change is hard. As I commented on Laura's post, it's like herding cats or swimming through Jell-O. Or both. At the same time. I think this is especially true the older we get. Our brains are wired now. It takes tremendous energy to get our synapses to move in a new direction. Habits are grooved into our gray matter, quite literally. Teaching ourselves new ways of coping, new methods of living takes time and slow-and-steady reinforcement. For most of us, change isn't overnight. We don't wake up one morning and - bam - we're different.
But. Driving by McDonald's the other day, without even the slightest urge to turn in, I realized: Change is possible.
It's possible.
Don't give up.
Now, let's talk about my resolution to start working out again.
