Why is it so difficult for my daughter to understand my desire to diet and support me in my self-control efforts? The answer is simply that love and eating are emotionally intertwined, and we must walk an emotionally charged tightrope.
It's dinner, the shared meal, that is most difficult to control. The first night there was nothing to eat at home and we were both tired; soup and salad sounded wonderful. The reality was that we ate at probably the best Mexican restaurant ever and I simply could not resist the basket of homemade chips and three unique salsas.
Our second dinner was proceeded by supermarket shopping. By the time your daughter is well into adulthood the art of mutual grimaces and sighing is so finely tuned as to be comical. I suggest beautiful tuna steaks, she pouts. She suggests hamburger, I sigh. She wants me to make her favorite bruschetta; I see a loaf of bread. Hamburger and salad wins against my better judgement as it is simply something that doesn't fry up well on the stove, and the too lean meat is tasteless. She has been trained well and I admire her sensible serving of Dove's Ultimate Chocolate in small mousse cups, but I also cannot resist.
Did log in five miles of urban walking.
Day 14
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