OK then . . . lots of syllables in THAT header.
But yesterday at the golf course I was thinking about how Michael Neill's concept of "responsive proactivity" works in the context of my intuitive eating experiment.
The golf course was beautiful -- really crisp and cool, intermittent sunshine and clouds, gorgeous bright leaves . . . and I saw a couple woolly bear caterpillars!! They race so quickly on their little black rubbery feet . . . absolutely in a hurry!! And so natty in their black and russet striped fur . . . perfect for a crisp autumn day!!
Before we left, I had an egg white omelette, made in my microwave pan: with mushrooms, habanero cheese, red bell pepper and lots of spinach. I wanted a solid hit of protein and fibre . . . because walking the golf course and swinging a club as often as I have to takes quite a bit of energy!! Proactivity. Optimal nutrition.
But: we were planning to have lunch at the club house after our game.
And: I love the club's chicken wings. With French fries. Which I haven't had yet this season.
There was a new flavour on the menu -- Caesar Parmesan, crispy with melted cheese. Dill dip and celery and carrot sticks. The French fries were terrific too . . . hot hot fresh and crispy. With . . . a glass of Chardonnay.
Exactly what I wanted to eat.
The order came with 14 wing pieces and a huge tray of the fries: which I positioned on the table between myself and DH (who had uncharacteristically ordered a SALAD!! And, I am pretty sure, regretted his choice!!).
I ate slowly, enjoying every mouthful, until I was full. Maybe seven pieces of chicken -- I wasn't counting. And perhaps a third of the French fries -- I wasn't measuring.
I responded to my hunger signals. Stopped when I was just about full. Waited a few minutes. Moved the food further away from myself. Ordered a black coffee which came freshly brewed and hot hot hot: just the way I like it.
Yes, DH ate all the rest of the chicken and almost all of the French fries. But HE stopped too when he had had enough . . . as he always does. Sigh. Intuitive eating is NOT something he needs to learn.
Soon the woolly bears will be in their cocoons till spring.
And they will hatch into Isabella tiger moths . . . very modest and unassuming. Much less flamboyant than a Monarch or swallowtail . . .
And no no no . . . . there's nothing spectacular about the results of my intuitive eating. Nobody is going to mistake me for a super model. I've emerged as just a relatively normal body weight old gal!!