I saw one of the “people” today that I’ve been seeing regularly for this whole health thing. Which, by the way – come 3pm is WAY over rated. All I want is damn cracker. And aside from that one time, wherein an entire sleeve of grahm’s were forced down my throat, I always find something better to do than think about everything I cannot eat right now. Like fold laundry, or make a pot of soup. Oh, the soup I am making.
Today we were going through my food journal and chart of blood sugars (and everything is looking wonderful – all within healthy range!!) and he asks me, have you been eating potatoes?
You mean the starch that is a french fry? That one thing that I love with all my heart? The one where I can slice them up and make an entire casserole out of this ONE root vegetable that is heavenly? They even make chips out of it!!
No, sir. I have no been eating potatoes – but dear God, may I? I haven’t been eating corn either … but um, can I? Pretty please?
No, turns out it’s a good thing that I’m not eating those veggies or grains (corn is actually a grain – there you go, you learned something) but he did say I could try sweet potatoes. Just do an experiment – see how it affects my blood sugar.
DO YOU KNOW WHAT I CAN DO WITH A SWEET POTATO???
I can make Sweet Potato Fries. And and and. It does not matter at all what else can be done with a sweet potato at this time in my life. If I could turn a sweet potato into chocolate, I would be the healthiest vegetable eater ever. And I would do it proudly.
So I have this little nugget that feels like a window in a life where I’m not nomming carrots all day and I’m holding it in like a secret from someone that was uttered by accident. Like, oh did you hear so-and-so madeout with your boyfriend while you were on “a break” … and you’re all, WE WERE NOT ON A BREAK! WHO IS THAT BITCH? That’s what a sweet potato is in my mind. That naughty bitch, making out with my blood sugar – we’re on a break!!
I didn’t give myself permission to try this yet. It’s just a little risky for me. Try this one thing, then maybe I could try this other one thing – which happens to be higher on the glycemic index than a sweet potato and it kind of snowballs into my justifying a Butterfinger. So, No. I am not trying this yet. But I get to – and that feels even better.
So, tonight I made brown rice pasta for the fam with homemade spaghetti sauce and Jessica ends up inviting Eric and Ariel over for dinner. Complete with wine glasses for our guests – you know, to pretend, Mom!, Ok. Whatever. So I’m feeding phantom fairytales and my family is chowing down on this devil devil pasta while I get to eat … wait for it.
Stir Fried Cabbage.
Which, in all fairness, is very good. I eat this for lunch a lot because it’s so good. Oliver loves it, it’s kind of a staple here. But I have a very long and messy affair with pasta – one that ended happily years ago already. I no longer buy pasta as a staple for my pantry, but whenever the brown rice stuff goes on sale I get some for the kids. But everything, and I mean everything, they eat looks good to me. They get toast sometimes in the morning and I don’t even lick my fingers after spreading it with butter. I wash my hands. I’m always washing my hands. Testing my strength – daring myself to prove to me that I can do this. Damn it, I am doing this. I will do this.
And I have a secret sweet potato to prove it.