Waistline

So, as mentioned earlier, I gave up extra spending for Lent. This meant that I needed to pack my lunch each day for work. I enjoyed it and will continue doing this because it is wise. However, while this practice saves me money – it is taking a toll on my waist line. Let me explain . . . . . .

Over packing food is a learned trait in my family. Growing up as an only child in a home with Depression Era parents literally meant; clean your plate there are children in the world starving. Team this with the invention of processed food for the busy housewife (an invention I am sure made my mom’s Top 3 List) and it created a recipe for disaster: Food+Guilt = EAT EVERYTHING.

I remember once in elementary school my class decided to walk in the annual March of Dimes fund-raiser. Being the naturally-born, non-profit leader that I am; I diligently went house to house to collect pledges for how many miles I would walk that day. I lived in an urban setting so there were houses aplenty – meaning dollars aplenty possible for that charity (hum, this profession really was my destiny).

Here is what I remember about the day of the walk. I dressed in my cutest pink top with short puffy sleeves and my silver cross (given for perfect Sunday School attendance). Listen, you have to look good in this line of business. I also remember it was an extremely sunny day and my silver cross was serving as a lightning rod for the sunbeams. I had terribly shaped sunburn by day’s end.

Finally, I remember the lunch my mom packed for me. There were enough Ho-Hos, Twinkies, sandwiches, and supplies to have lasted a camping weekend not to mention the 100 mile (but really probably more like 5 mile) hike I was going to do that day. I had to carry my lunch in a cloth bag – probably a pillow case (mom liked using them for many things other than sleeping). It weighted a ton and with each mile I conquered it felt like it weighted more.

I finished that walk and as a reward – there were free hot dogs and soda waiting for us at the end. The food in my pillow case was melted and crushed so I had the dogs instead. Bringing that food home must have been painful. Clearly so, because I remember it all to this day!

PS: As the non-profit leader I am, that very afternoon – covered in sweat and sunburn – I went house to house to collect the promised pledges!

Assignment: Maybe it is okay to leave some food on the plate (or pillowcase).