I Blew It… Oh, well. On this weight-loss journey I sometimes sabotage myself and that’s okay.

Do you eat because…

(A) You’re hungry?

(B) You’re bored?

(C) It’s there?

(D) All of the above?

If you answered all of the above, congratulations! You are a human being that survived the Neolithic revolution. Your reward is living in the most food-rich epoch in human history. The very thing that made your ancestors survive is now making your jeans dig into your muffin-top.

Ok, let’s back up and get off the hyperbole train.

I just blew it because I just inhaled a calorie-rich meal because, (A) I was hungry, (B) I was bored, and (C) It was there.

I’m talking about airline food.

Now, these days, getting served a meal on a flight is like drinking high tea on the Titanic. They’re both things of the past. However, for our holiday trip to visit family, Mr. Hot and Spicy and I were able to score first-class tickets using our frequent flyer miles.

Now I got champagne tastes and I don’t know if I can go back to our beer budget.

It all starts with the drinks they offer you before the other plebs (ahem, passengers) sit down. It makes the world seem oh, so, right. So you’re sitting there, finishing up your wine when the flight attendant comes back and asks, “Mrs. Blair*, would you like another drink?” Now, I saw her glance down at her flight manifesto before saying my name, but now I feel like I’m sitting on the Spruce Goose wearing a fox stole with Howard Hughes on my arm. Yes, Mrs. Blair would like another drink.

Then, that same flight attendant comes around and announces your choices of entrees. Would I care for the chicken in mushroom sauce or the bowtie pasta?

I’m, (A) Really Hungry, so I order the chicken in mushroom sauce.

When the meal arrives, I realize two things. One, for the people who prepare airplane food, mushroom sauce equals mushroom pink jelly. Two, the lean cuisine people are genius scientists because they have been able to recreate microwavable dishes on par with airplane food with half the fat.

But I eat it all- the chicken, the rubber roll with foil-wrapped butter, the salad with dressing in a plastic mini-tub. Why? Because, (B) I’m Bored, and, (C) It’s there. Then dessert comes around and it’s strawberry cheesecake. I inhale that, rationalizing that I’ve already done the damage and YOLO**.

Now, seven years ago, when I did my first round of Weight Watchers, at a full-on sprint, I would have hung my head in self-loathing and vowed to consume nothing but water the next day. Now, I’m older, wiser and much more jaded. I’m doing a Weight Watchers marathon. Like, you know, how some people walk marathons. I now realize that things are never going to be perfect. Sometimes, like on this flight, I’m going to sabotage myself. Sometimes, like during Christmas dinner with my family, I’m going to intentionally throw calorie counting out the window.

So, for tonight, I blew it. Eh. I’m going to put the wine glass down and come up with a responsible plan for the rest of the holiday festivities. I’ll plan when exactly I want to indulge, when I want to be on program, when I want to say yes to my beloved food pushers and when I want to say no.

Let’s all be more forgiving of ourselves.

*Now you all know that I married the most Scot-Irish mutt around.

** I enjoy using this meme because I only recently learned what it meant. Maybe I did belong on the Spruce Goose?