Testing the Waters...

So last night was my first time taking my new eating intentions out into the world by going to a friend's most amazing underground dinner-party (a.k.a. "pirate restaurants," "ghetto gourmet," "underground supper clubs,"...if you haven't heard of this movement...coolest thing EVER...an individual event includes gourmet-leaning food with local farm-fresh ingredients. And as one collective in Austin, Texas, describes it, these dinners fuse "the intimacy of a dinner party with the ease of a restaurant." Private residence. Elaborate, excellent food. Reasonable requested donation. And new friends!)

So I was at one of these coolest-eating-things-ever events and once I soaked up the coolness of being part of one of these things, it was, I admit, a tad difficult. When I'm home in my own world, cooking my own food, just for moi, it's pretty easy to stay within the lines. And I actually did quite well at the dinner as far as what went into my mouth (though I did have a spring roll the wrapper of which was made out of white rice and had white-rice noodles in them, and I did, accidentally, get some of the main course's white coconut rice onto my fork when I was digging into the string beans).

Some people might say: why deprive yourself? Enjoy! It's just white rice for god's sake, we're not talking about a fish fry. And I know that some people might say that, because I am some people, and I was saying it to myself all night.

It was difficult. No way around it. When the fruit and triple-creme cheese came out and when the lemon cake with berries appeared in front of everyone but me, I felt like crying over my fruit, over my very beautiful, very colorful healthy dessert that was, in the end, just fruit missing that was missing its cake.

But I had to remember why I was and am doing this: Not to be good or pure or even to lose weight. Not so people will think well of me, or feel sorry for me, or so I can feel sorry for myself. I was/am doing it because making such a change is to feel powerful (instead of powerless). It's saying: I'm going to do this for myself because I don't think I can do it, which makes me want to do it even more because the seemingly impossible always exhilarates and motivates and, eventually, in the doing, astounds.

What I've been doing up to now in regards to sustenance wasn't working. Finding out what does work will mean life can be more effortless and my head won't be busy with: Do I have a migraine because I drank too much coffee? Or not enough? Did I not drink enough water? Or did I just eat too much salt? Am I dizzy because I have a tumor or because my adrenal glands are fu'd up because I ate only a scone for breakfast, like, five days in a row?

I'm an appetite in transition so my head is filled with different questions: Can't I just have one bite of that lemon cake? Why deprive myself of something so beautiful made with the loving and skillful hands of a dear friend at this cool event called an "underground dinner"? How much decaf do I have to drink before it actually equals a cup of regular (and, whatever the answer, isn't it just better to have a whole cup of regular and call it a day?)?

When I decided to try this out, I was very clear about why I was trying it out and it made sense (especially paired with a rigorous weekly yoga class and my Friday session with my charming but villainous physical trainer). So I'm just trusting that that me knew what she was talking about when she got us into this. And I guess I owe it to her to see it through, see what's waiting on the other side...

Tonight what was waiting at the end of my drive home from Albany was the 1 ounce of 70% dark chocolate that Dr. Hyman signs off on. Every now and then. Holy yum.