Food Guilt

One evening last week I was looking for a quick dinner (Kevin was gone for the night) and settled on a nice big bowl of Honey Smacks. You probably won’t believe me, but I really don’t buy sugar cereal very often. This one night, though, Honey Smacks sounded particularly good to me. So, I indulged myself.

Don’t ask me why but, as I was eating my dinner, I took the opportunity to simultaneously read a book on pregnancy. The chapter I happened to be on was about maintaining a proper pregnancy diet. As I chomped on my Honey Smacks, I read this sentence: “Every time you take a bite of food, ask yourself ‘Is this the best possible thing I could be eating to benefit my baby?’”

At that instant, guilt settled upon my soul.

I then had a flashback, remembering my mom telling me once, after I received a particularly good grade in law school: “I ate an egg every day I was pregnant with you. I wonder if that’s why you’re so smart.”

Guilt continued to engulf me.

To remedy my terrible, horrible, completely unacceptable eating habits, last night I went grocery shopping, determined to buy only healthful items. I turned a blind eye to all of the beautiful cookies and ice creams on all of the shelves and, instead, loaded up my cart with a myriad of fruits, nuts, vegetables, and whole-grain items. I even bought bran muffins. I hate bran muffins.

This morning Kevin and I carpooled to work and ate bran muffins for breakfast in the car.

“What do you think of this bran muffin?” I asked Kevin.
“It’s good,” he replied. “Don’t you like it?”
“All I’m going to say is that someday this child of ours had better appreciate it!”