Food Regrets

I confess. I've been a dieter for what seems like my entire adulthood. I began life with a food tooth - quite often winning the clean plate award and then some (as opposed to my brother, Jack, who preferred the "push the food around the plate" strategy). And it finally caught up to me in the 7th grade, when Jack helpfully made a comment about my pants getting a little tight. Since then, I have always monitored my food intake. It's a good thing, really. Had I kept indulging my food tooth with no parameters, who knows where I'd be today? Probably spilling into Jen's airplane seat.

But the downside of being a constant dieter is a phenomenon I like to call "food regrets." Make no mistake about it - I still have a food tooth. I still crave salty foods. I still love my cupcakes. And so I allow myself to indulge in these items from time to time. Candy still puts a smile on my face, after all. Ditto with movie popcorn. But if I am going to spend my calories on something, I better be damn sure I'm enjoying it.

This is where "Food Regrets" comes in. Ever finish a sub par fried-something or gluttonous dessert and just worry yourself sick about it? I have. Most recently, in London, I ate half of the WORST CHICKEN BURGER EVER - complete with fried processed patty, mayonnaise, and a boring old sesame bun. I topped it off with some extremely bland "chips." What a freaking waste! I'm not kidding - it was abysmal. I was so annoyed with myself for eating more than two bites of that meal. I would have much rather chowed on some brick oven pizza, some McDonald's french fries - heck, even some Kraft Macaroni & Cheese.

Food regrets. They're the worst.