I don't want to be a fairweather clean eater. Either I am, or I'm not. And this week, I felt like I was not. A lot of this is in my control and I plan to do better next week. I know I am not at home, but honestly, given my surroundings, that is no excuse. Our hotel kitchen is fully equipped. There are stores aplenty nearby. We are not destitute or stranded or helpless. I brought my own blender, for Pete's sake.
Nothing is stopping me from ordering as clean as I can at any given restaurant. I'm the one doing the grocery shopping, and I am the one on my own all day long, making decisions about what to eat and when. Nobody made me put that pudding on my plate tonight. I did it almost out of defiance to myself, "because I can." What a brat! What am I trying to prove, and to whom? Yippee for me, I can eat junk...? Guess that kind of backfired. I don't *want* to eat the junk. Eating less than clean makes me feel sluggish, grumpy, poofy around the middle, and like all my clean efforts (and yes, some days it is an effort) have gone out the window. Why would I continue choosing making myself feel like this? Even if it isn't true (except for the poofy belly part...ugh), a few bites of stale cake and a heap of room-temperature whipped cream aren't worth the mental and physical repercussions.
I can still have treats. I will still enjoy my treats. The BBQ sandwich I had for lunch today was incredible and I am very glad I chose that instead of the bison burger that was on the menu just below it. But they will be treats again, not staples. Tomorrow we're going to get a Sunday paper and I will make my shopping list based on the store circular, like I do at home. I might even include some things from the issue of Clean Eating Magazine I brought with me. After all, nothing is stopping me.