{ grazing vs. binging }

When it comes to food and eating habits otherwise undefined, my mom has deemed me a 'grazer.' I get full fairly fast, so I prefer eating smaller, 'snack-sized' meals throughout the day, more frequently than the typical breakfast, lunch and dinner. My mom claims I end up eating way more this way. So I thought I would entertain her hypothesis and actually keep track of every morsel I ingest on a daily basis.
Enter Food Diary, stage left. Or right. I don't really have a preference.

For the last week, I've done a fantastic job of keeping a detailed account in the little one inch tall notebook with a Japanese print fabric cover that I've claimed as my Food Diary (FD). For all intents and purposes, it has served me well so far. I'm eating less empty calories (aka Twizzlers and Reeses Peanut Butter Cups) at work when I'm bored because I have to then stare at the number 50 in my little FD. And 50's add up, let me tell you. Who knew that (50+50+50)x3 = a quarter of my caloric intake for one day? WOAH chocolate, who do you think you are?

So the diary has been going well. I'm not obsessing; I'm just being less reckless and careless when it comes to what I put in my body. You are what you eat, after all.
BUT THEN TEMPTATION STRUCK. And I might have failed. Hence why the title of this blog includes the word "binge" in it (tear).

In my defense: It was after 11pm, I had already been awake for 17 hours, and I had just received a traffic ticket with an exorbitant and unexplained dollar amount on it. Oh and I had just started my period. So after Sarah very graciously consoled me and calmed me down with some custom breathing exercises and a few good laughs, I said goodnight and ran to the kitchen. HELLO MCCONELL'S. Why do they sell it in pints in the grocery store? It's so unhealthy. AND THEY MAKE IT SO EASY. Open freezer; remove lid. BINGE.