Love ’em or Hate ’em? Those ever so helpfully posted Calorie Counts on the menu?
Eating out used to be a culinary joy! A gastronomic guess. Flavor triumphed over calories! NO LONGER! Now dining out has become a math equation—and worst of all—a math word problem.
If I eat 540 calories of this chicken-brown rice-veggie plate (boring) PLUS a 90-calorie glass of red wine, can I put cream in my coffee tomorrow? Will I feel good about myself when I leave the restaurant? Will I feel cheated or deprived! Or still hungry?
If I eat 2000 calories of this dreamy, yummy, salt laden veal piccata, am I reduced to nuts and twigs for the duration of the week? How many hours on the treadmill will offset the splurge?
And, oh dear Lord, there’s the bread basket! (butter or pesto or oil/vinegar options vary by restaurant). What shall I do????
I enjoyed being blissfully ignorant of the calorie count. I ate what—the horror—I wanted. Now—I eat what I should. Because I should be mindful of fat, sugar, salt, calories, yada yada.
Banish the burger! Shun the sugar! Flee the wheat! Bar the carbs! Decline that 2nd glass of wine! Spurn the salt. Eat this, Not that—I even bought the books!
My choices have been reduced to numbers. Not flavor. Not texture. Not whim. I may need to take a therapist with me the next time I eat out. I intend to find a nice indulgent slightly pudgy one!
I love knowing my calorie intake...I hate knowing I can’t eat 99.9% of what’s on the menu!
Related Posts: Diet Diatribe; Treadmill Lament;
