Vacation

Being away from routine and the known can be a difficult prospect for someone like me who has dietary restrictions that are both medical and by choice. Routine and predictability are often the watchword of anyone dieting or trying to combat food allergies. Beyond that, I learned in grad school that the best way for me to eat cheaply, but also with health in mind was to cook on the weekends and then choose from pre-metered out leftovers for the weekdays. Later, as I began making choices such as limiting carbs, doing “cleanses”, increasing my protein intake, and even going on a campaign to reduce gluten in my diet significantly it became very necessary to use the personal strength I have in planning to get the job done.

Yes, I’m a planner by nature, but I really did come by my tendency to be a detail-oriented, ingredient-reading fiend, control freak about food honestly and with good intentions.

It is both liberating and mildly terrifying to let it go. 

And then, of course I had to hand over my eating plan  in favor of seeing a nutritionist. This means that right now I have no plan other than to try and “eat right” (which has as many permutations as there are people who use that phrase) and exercise. Honestly, I don’t how to extend that to find the right fit for my mini-vacay.


To make matters worse, of course, my insurance doesn’t cover a visit to the nutritionist. So, I need to save up some before I go. So, I’m adrift on my own for a few weeks before that happens. Off in a sea of food choices, no lifeboat. I have to be my own lifeguard. Luckily, I’m a strong swimmer.


This vacation was ill timed in some ways, but perfectly timed in others. This is not an ideal time for me to take time off from work, but then on the other hand, I am beginning to think that with the month of non-stop, balls-to-wall, life in my car work I have ahead of me, some pre-emptive rest is in order. It’s not great for me to stare down the prospect of eating on vacation right after two months of eating-on-plan were suddenly brought to an abrupt stop, but on the other hand, being able to function around food is a pretty big deal. My dad felt it was important for me to be strong in math and able to use chopsticks. My mom made sure we could all swim by the time we were in Kindergarten. So, perhaps it is time I learn the skill live my life around food without fearing what will happen.


Well, here is what has happened so far. A lunch upon my arrival in Seattle where I selected a plate of two small slices of pizza (about half the size of normal slices), and a salad. An emergency run to get food when my blood sugar was crashing and a smoothie. Some Indian food where I ate a quarter cup of rice. A cup of cereal (Special K). A few chocolate covered cherries. A seriously decadent dinner in Ballard (I want you all to know, I love, love, love my sibs. But this restaurant is so good I would recommend you go to Bastille even if my bro wasn’t an important fixture on the staff and management) where I enjoyed the free cocktail he sent over, as well as a taste of pate, some pork belly and some tomato salad appetizer, and then ordered of all things . . . a burger. It. Was. So. Good. Simple but good.

Then today, I cooked for three hours for a BBQ (So I damn sure was going to eat it). I made bean salad, kale salad and corn salad, fried chicken, shrimp kabobs for the grill, and asked my sisters to help me with a recipe for homemade ice cream sandwiches. Then I went for a run to clear my head and get out of kitchen mode. When I came back, the party was on so I had some of each of the three salads, chicken, shrimp, grilled veggies, half a brownie, a small ice cream treat, some angel food cake, a bite of watermelon, a small taste of chips, and two margaritas and three beers.

I don’t regret the burger. I don’t regret the rice. I certainly don’t regret (and will never regret) the Indian food. I’m pleased that I got a run in. (I thought I was so smooth. “Oh, this run will be easier than normal because I’m at sea-level here!” Um, hills, dear Christie. Hills.)

Of all the things I’ve eaten here in Seattle I second-guess only two things – the pizza and the emergency smoothie. I am fairly certain my blood sugar would have been low on Thursday no matter what I ate. I had not slept enough on Wednesday and done quite a bit of rushing, running, and dealing with anxiety when trying to catch my flight on Thursday (it was a Murphy’s law situation where anything that could go wrong DID). Fatigue, changed schedules, travel, and anxiety can all drastically change how “even” my endocrinology is. So, I might have been fighting with myself anyways. But, I’m sure the pizza didn’t help. And, predictably, by 7pm, my body was sending me siren wails of, “WTF! It’s been 6 hours! What did we do wrong? Are you made at us?” It got bad. So, being stuck in the cell phone lot at the airport I just looked at my peeps and said, “I need to eat something NOW.”


I’m all about the up-side since I’m on vacation, so I do think the positive is that I actually heard and identified true hunger signals and blood sugar crash auras. On the less positive, one bad food choice lead to another less than stellar one: the smoothie. I’m all for smoothies when I make them (real fruit, no sugar, Greek yogurt – because it has more protein and no fat – and almond milk because it is higher in protein as well) but I need to let y’all know, when you get a smoothie out in the world it is probably made with a metric shitload (scientific term) of sugar/corn syrup as well as prepackaged junk-fruit that probably has as many liabilities, chemicals and preservatives as it does nutrition.Mostly empty calories.

But want to hear something? Although I haven’t stepped on a scale I believe I’ve lost a couple of pounds. My shorts are looser. Ahh, the powers of de-stressing, Seattle walking, and sisters. Speaking of that . . . there is a lot of giggling going on right now, and a new sister coming in to tell me I’m a good person, hug me, thank me for cooking. And even better – she’s read my blog!

More to come. For now I'll say this. I don't think what I'm eating now is the version of "eating right" I will take home with me. But, for vacation, it is right to eat indulgently at my bro's place. It is right to eat fried chicken that I made. And it is right for me to enjoy my food without counting calories because I'm also walking more miles than I can count, and learning more from my sisters than I can possibly present here! For now, suffice it to say I will never look at a coke can the same way again, and if I should ever record and album I might seriously consider naming it, "The one-eyed bartender."