the saddest thing about a day of rest is that I don't get to eat as much.
now, have I told you how I think I'm missing that part of your body that tells you to stop eating when you're full? I'm sure I am, just as I'm sure that I once learned which part of my brain has that task, but I've since forgotten.
I never get the message that I'm full until it's too late. I can serve myself from a buffet over and over for hours and never know I've had too much until I'm almost sick. thanksgiving dinner renders me a zombie, as I keep serving myself helping after helping because it's just so darn good. if a restaurant serves me a full plate of food, I will eat a full plate of food. I never say "no more" because I'm full: I say "no more" because I know it will end up on places of my body I don't want it to be.
I can eat cake for breakfast.
I can eat brownies and cookies for lunch.
I do try to fit some protein in there, but I can graze all day long on carbohydrates.
so when a day of rest comes along, my caloric outflow is drastically reduced, and I panic. my only hope is that perhaps I might not be as hungry, since I haven't exerted so much energy. but as I explained, I often eat just for the pure pleasure of it, not because I'm hungry.
yes, it's time for a day off. a day of rest. a day of recovery, of my muscles growing even more strong and powerful as I let them slack off for 24 hours.
I will be good today, though. I will snack on healthy food, and tell myself I'm full even when I'm not. I will retrain my brain. I will function perfectly well without that silly part that I'm missing.
but first, I think I'll have a cookie.