Food logs are funny things.
Sometimes they make you laugh.
Sometimes they make you cry.
But if you're me, they will always make you wonder where in the helicopter you are storing all of this godforsaken food that you are consuming. Always.
Food logs do this to me.
I can't say that I even feel guilty about it. The funny thing about me post-Jane is that I eat without any kind of guilt looming on the horizon. I eat because I want to eat, because I need to eat. Guilt is not a factor.
Oh, but marvel.
Marvel is definitely a factor.
When I copied my skinny nutritionist's food log back in the day, I only put 11 lines on the log in which to record my daily food and exercise happenings. Yesterday, I was certain that I was going to need to insert more lines. Or flip over the page and write on the back.
Alas, I had 3 lines left. Barely, and only because I wrote small in the "food" boxes.
On Tuesday, I discovered that I needed more quality protein sources (a package of peanut butter crackers don't really count as a protein serving, but I counted it anyway). Yesterday, I ate no veggies.
I repeat.
Yesterday I ate NO veggies.
What?!
How could that be?
I LUHHHVVVVE veggies!
I didn't have any on hand yesterday, so I went without. This is just not nutritionally sound. I must remedy this problem. I must eat veggies.
But I must not eat really hot peppers that are disguised as green beans. See, food logs are fun. You can write silly little notes on them, and then go back a month later and laugh at yourself.
It's a good time.
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