The Primal Challenge Day 2

Last night I dreamt of chocolate cake.

I was stuffing a slab of moist goodness down my throat when someone pointed out to me that chocolate cake contained sugar. I threw the cake on the ground in disgust where it lay dormant among piles of half eaten pieces and crumbs previously discarded.

It was a ridiculous dream, because I don’t normally eat chocolate cake to begin with and of course I know it contains sugar. But something in my subconscious was warning me. I’m so scared of tripping up and jumping to the dark side, even without realizing it, that I have momentarily put away the apron and stopped – much to my team’s disgust given I have been promising them a cake for over a week – baking.

My homemade delights have been put on hold, just in case I go to lick the spoon or taste the icing, or worse still that one muffin or cupcake will come out all wrong and I will be tempted to taste it to ensure it’s till moist inside and suitable for sharing.  Sorry team, it’s just too soon.

Breakfast was hard enough.

I realized in a panic yesterday afternoon that Tuesday bought not one but two meal’s that involved eating out – someone else cooking them for me and taking away my control. The first a baby shower breakfast.

I rushed over to my sister, who happened to be organizing the said gathering, with fear stricken eyes and panic in my voice and blurted out something about needing to give dietary requirements for the breakfast.

She looked at me with scorn in her eyes – Why, what cant you eat? She spat, her voice was laced with irritability.

I looked at her with nervous apprehension. Despite being sisters we look nothing alike, yet this could have been me a week ago. Arched eyebrows, narrowed, scorn filled eyes. That look of – really, you are doing THAT diet!?

I can eat eggs and bacon.

Well it might be too late, it’s a buffet.

Just no dairy, no gluten or grains. If it’s too hard ill work it out.

So like my boyfriend, everything he CANT eat you are CHOOSING not to.

Yes (said meekly)

I’ll call them to see.

I went home and made a frittata just in case. Bacon, egg, tomato, leek and zucchini. A full 12 happy healthy eggs with smiling faces that almost winked at me with joy as I cracked them open and added them to the bowl.

Lucky I did.

The breakfast of what not to eat. Plates of blueberry and orange muffins, so light and moist they almost danced on the plate. Scones, still warm from the oven, lightly buttered sour dough toast, my favorite fruit toast. Full fat cream, honey, processed full of sugar strawberry jam.  Fruit. All sweet fruit, strawberry’s, melon, kiwi fruit. And my all time buttery favorite – croissants.

It was paraded before me, each item vying for my attention. Perhaps the waitress was tipped off, as she seemed to only ever find empty places right in front of me where she proceeded to mercilessly dump the food, and just like those happy, healthy eggs, the muffins and croissants seemed to wink at me, beckoning me to come closer. There was not one egg or piece of bacon in sight.

I ate five red grapes and two long blacks and smelt all the sugary goodness with a smile. Tried to forget the chocolate cake that still gnawed at my subconscious and instead thought of the clean eating, happy egg frittata I had waiting in the office fridge.

Egg’s had never tasted so good.

Especially after 100 kettle bell swings in this morning’s WOD and a skin fold test that left me with pen marks randomly drawn on my body – thanks Bec ;).

A few slabs – I mean pieces – of frittata and I was back to myself. Meal plan complete and I had passed the first test of eating out, by not really eating.

My next test – only a few meals away – dinner out tonight with colleagues. A steak restaurant so should be ok, but dinner with colleagues normally includes wine, and entrée and dessert and… oh boy. Let’s hope there is no chocolate cake on the menu….

Breakfast frittaa2 frittata

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