Stress eating
I can't remember if Minnams blogged about this, or if we've just talked about it extensively, so apologies if she's already got this one covered. But we were talking about how some people must be secret eaters, because in the lunch room they make healthy food choices and exercise portion control, and you may even see them in the gym or running outside. But somehow, they gain weight, and you wonder whether they secretly go home and devour an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's every night.
I'm not quite that bad, although I do love my ice cream (and anyway, more often than not, a cookie, and/or something fried and/or something with heaps of carbs makes its way to my lunch tray). But I've realized in the last month or so that I am a ridiculous stress-eater at work.
Right now, the cabinet over my computer is stocked with a tub of orange slices and a bag of Twizzlers that was full this morning. Actually, the bag of Twizzlers is now sitting right next to my computer, clipped shut with a mini binder clip, because I ate about 10 of them in a five-minute period without even thinking about it. And the link is dramatic: Read aggravating email, open cabinet, remove tub of orange slices, eat four, respond to email. Or, today, hang up the phone after person on the other end yells at me, on a day when I was already fairly close to the brink, dissolve into a puddle of tears, pull myself together, open bag of Twizzlers, eat 10, blog.
What's that about? I know I'm not hungry; I know that I'm eating in response to stress; I know I will look at the bag and be horrified by my behavior.
I don't abuse the emergency granola bar that lives in my work bag for those times when I'm legitimately hungry and cranky. Most days, I get a banana at breakfast time that I like to eat around 3 in the afternoon, but I rarely turn to that when I'm stressed out. I don't even abuse the Peeps.
I don't know what's up with me. I think I just need to enforce a zero-tolerance policy on the chewy, sugary things in my office, and I'll be all good. Starting on Wednesday.
I'm not quite that bad, although I do love my ice cream (and anyway, more often than not, a cookie, and/or something fried and/or something with heaps of carbs makes its way to my lunch tray). But I've realized in the last month or so that I am a ridiculous stress-eater at work.
Right now, the cabinet over my computer is stocked with a tub of orange slices and a bag of Twizzlers that was full this morning. Actually, the bag of Twizzlers is now sitting right next to my computer, clipped shut with a mini binder clip, because I ate about 10 of them in a five-minute period without even thinking about it. And the link is dramatic: Read aggravating email, open cabinet, remove tub of orange slices, eat four, respond to email. Or, today, hang up the phone after person on the other end yells at me, on a day when I was already fairly close to the brink, dissolve into a puddle of tears, pull myself together, open bag of Twizzlers, eat 10, blog.
What's that about? I know I'm not hungry; I know that I'm eating in response to stress; I know I will look at the bag and be horrified by my behavior.
I don't abuse the emergency granola bar that lives in my work bag for those times when I'm legitimately hungry and cranky. Most days, I get a banana at breakfast time that I like to eat around 3 in the afternoon, but I rarely turn to that when I'm stressed out. I don't even abuse the Peeps.
I don't know what's up with me. I think I just need to enforce a zero-tolerance policy on the chewy, sugary things in my office, and I'll be all good. Starting on Wednesday.
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