Bagels, Pizza, and New York

My mother and grandmother tell the story at every family gathering of how I met my husband.  I realize that may seem a little odd since it's usually the couple's story to tell.  But, each of them remembers the phone call that I made to my mom just after I met the man I would eventually marry:

Me: Do you know where Lynbrook is?

Mom: Yes..... why?

Me: I'm dating this guy who grew up there.

Mom: It's about twenty minutes from your grandmother.

Me: Wow... what a small world.

Almost 19 years later, I look forward to our annual family trip to New York with relish and trepidation.  I love Long Island and I love the city.  I love the culture and the busy pace and being able to relax with my extended family.  I love the friends I only see once a year.  I love that 9:30 is considered early.  I love the crazy drivers and crazy accents.  I love that the expectations are high and how everyone seems so well educated and cultured.  And I love that I get to experience foods that just don't exist anywhere else in the country: bagels, pizza, cheesecake, diner mozzarella sticks, and my mother-in-law's fabulous Italian cooking.  Think bagels are the same no matter where you are?  Ask your average New Yorker?  They'll tell you exactly why you are wrong and then they will feed you a New York bagel and you will never look at a bagel package the same way again.

But those same fabulous foods are always the reason for my trepidation.  Because I always indulge and I always come home at least a few pounds heavier.  Worse, I always feel guilty and ashamed about not having followed "the plan."

I always start out my vacation with the best of intentions.  I make myself plans and rules and promises for the trip: no bagels, limit the pizza, only eat the protein sources, join a gym, go running every day.   I even remember one year where I brought my egg cooker, protein powder, and verified with my mother in law that I could use her blender.  (Yes...I'm even eye rolling at myself.)  No matter what though, I have ALWAYS fallen back on the yummy habits of  the past. Fresh bagels and cream cheese for breakfast. Two slices of New York pizza.  Italian cookies from Whistle Stop.  Carvel Ice Cream.  My mother-in-law's amazing cooking.  And every single year, I come home heavier, feeling guilty and ashamed of how terribly I've eaten and how spectacularly I failed at my plans and rules and promises.

But not this year.

This year, I'm of a new mindset. Expecting perfection out of myself is ridiculous. Creating unreasonable rules and plans and promises is only a set-up for spectacular failure.  Instead, I'm forgoing erroneous and arbitrary rules in favor of moderation.    I'm going to appreciate the bagels and pizza and diner mozzarella sticks.  I'm going to relish homemade meatballs and ribs and pasta yumminess.  I'm going to savor the vanilla ice cream cone with rainbow sprinkles from Carvel.  Why?  Because in the bigger picture, they are an incredibly small indulgence.  I'm not going to scarf them down because I can.  I will appreciate, relish, and savor each bite with gratitude.

Healthy for my physique?  Surprisingly, yes.  

By enjoying my indulgences, I stop the downward spiral of shame and guilt that accompanies them.  For me, that spiral usually has me hunting more junk food in a fit of self-recrimination and loathing.  But, instead of feeling hatred and reaching for more of what made me feel that way, I can accept that I'm indulging and do so with moderation.  I know that that moderate indulgence prevents that bigger binge in the future.  I understand that giving myself some grace and trust allows me to be able to enjoy those foods without guilt and without recrimination.  Best of all, I'm able to actually ENJOY the foods that I love. 

And when I go home a few pounds heavier, it will be with a happy belly and a peaceful heart.

Mmmmm... NY Pizza

and bagels....