Twitter's Stolen My Appetite

You would not believe the behaviors I am conquering just by taking pictures of my meals to share on twitter before eating. Doing this has led me to think about what I'm doing - sometimes cautiously and carefully. Here's how:

It underlines the importance of honesty.
Oh, I've had the inkling to deceive you by taking a picture before adding cheese to a scramble of some kind...but I didn't! Taking shots of eggs and bacon or whatevers every morning and plowing through with images of lunches and dinners has heightened my respect for my personal dignity.

I am more conscious of what goes in.
Changing my diet from a drive-thru and/or quick bites and big dinners lifestyle is a process for me. I'm not 100% there yet...but I've done some mental and social work to tweak my behaviors already (hosting a real foods group has been especially helpful) and am more aware of what is going to pass my lips. Taking a picture of what is about to end up in my stomach? Yeah. I am not going to want to share a picture of a sloppy burger and a heap of fries without having thought it through.

Note: I ate that very burger and gave most of my fries away the Friday night I went out with my friends. And I didn't feel bad about eating it OR tweeting it because I'm taking better care and attention of what I eat ALL the time now. That burger was awesome and a good choice. I make even healthier choices day to day, meal to meal, so I don't feel guilty.

I think about food differently.
And I can't say that tweeting what I eat is wholly responsible for the change in how I think about food, but it does have influence over presentation.

For a while I have planned meals and grocery shopping (as part of yet another group I started for people who want better home organization). I still do that...but because I am tweeting, I plan to make even nicer things to look at. I hate tweeting pictures of blobs of food. I do eat blobs of food sometimes, but I mostly want to make things that look delicious.

Portion control is spontaneous.
My -portion- size has trimmed on its own. It has! I am not going to send you an image of a heaping plate of spaghetti bolognese with two slices of garlic bread and a meager salad of not much in it. I did eat like that.

I don't now.

Just the other day I tweeted a photo of spaghetti squash with three meatballs and sauce. I skipped the garlic bread and the salad and was still satisfied, not left feeling hungry or wanting, which means I can eat less and feel just fine about it. Being aware of how much food is on my plate is all twitter's fault. I love it. I won't cheat myself by going hungry because that will just push me to binge eat between meals. I eat enough to satisfy my stomach but also appeal to my sense of pride (and embarrassment!) because I am tweeting what I eat.

I get to share my life.
Now I find myself excited to show you what I'm doing. I am not having but wanting to photo journal every day....and I get to avoid food logging the old fashioned way and I inspire people to cook more and I get asked for recipes. This feeds my slightly social personality.

I encourage you to try this for yourself in case you find the same benefits - or even better ones. #tweetyereats with me @wendytime

Memory Serves

PALM SPRINGS, CA - "Waitress Insults Fast Eater, Stuns Family"

We were sitting in a Denny's, eating breakfast, coming to the end of the happiest family vacation I can remember. Breakfast was my step-dad's favorite meal and, in true lover-of-food fashion, he graciously allowed us to order from anywhere on the menu.

We ordered big.

I can't remember liking anything but ham and eggs at that early age, but I'm sure I ordered what would come with toast, with pancakes, and a big, big glass of milk. (In a family full of fat people, this amount of food is common for a nine-year-old to order at a restaurant.) 

Plates of pancakes were still steaming yet my step-brother, the skinniest of our bunch, announced he had finished everything on his plate - I mean he gloated that he was done before all the rest of us. Our waitress happened to be there just to see if we had everything we'd need. She saw the pride in my brother's smile, heard the tiny arrogance in his voice, and noticed he was looking to her for praise.

But, instead she made a face and said, "Pig!"

My brother's jaw hit the table. The rest of us laughed.

For years since we have preserved the memory of my brother being told. Well deserved, you smug, little show-off.  The grown up me now stares at this scenario with a new appreciation for what my step-brother did.

In a family full of fat people, it's kind of great when you finish all of your food - especially if you happen to conquer something big. I remember being so proud of myself, and so full, and so satisfied with life, and so full, and so happy, and so full, when my step-dad looked at me and said, "God love ya, kid." because I'd finished a 12" pizza. I did that. I finished it. I never could before. And now that I did it, I had my step-father's attention and acceptance AND I had a recommendation for God to love me. I was proud of myself. I think I've finished every pub pizza thereafter, and we ordered pizza on Fridays religiously for years.

So, yeah, my brother expected the waitress to be pleased and find him super cute and exceedingly interesting and accomplished and and and and and.  Why wouldn't he?

Food was LOVE.