I got home from work at 10:30pm tonight. Semi-stressful elder meeting to cap off a long day. My normal pattern for decompression is to come home, turn on the TV, get some ice cream or chips and veg out until I get tired enough for bed. It's mindless eating that I'm sure hundreds of thousands of working people do as a means of coping.
I'm trying to re-wire my brain to establish different patterns. It's very difficult. So tonight I'm going to read a back issue of The Sun and tell my brain the pantry's closed.
It's weird how stress and eating seem to be such happy bedfellows.
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Oh yes, and each one of my unwanted pounds could attest to the stress/eating link. When did food become my god of choice? Difficult, but not impossible to dethrone. God Himself will see it through!
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