Fast Pass

I was shopping for groceries last night, and managed to gather together the essential to actually produce a few meals, rather than just something I could eat as a late dinner that very night. The latter is what I had done several times, and I was determined to do more this time out, as the trip over to the store is not one I relish making every single day. Well, I got my food, so I'll be all right for at least a couple days, I think.

I noticed while shopping that I had so successfully gotten out of the habit of buying the old, bad foods that I hadn't even thought about it since I could remember. I really tried to recall the last time I had entertained the idea of buying canned pasta, chili or the like, and I couldn't. I used to buy them almost exclusively, struggling to get through the week with fewer than ten cans. I had begun to regard myself as a connoisseur with a good sense of what brand was what.

I have now given them up entirely, and don't typically even glance at them as I walk through the aisle where they are stocked. This time I did, though I did not linger. The thought of buying them did not cross my mind, or at least it didn't seriously. I just observed as I looked what little hold they had on me. I won't claim they hold no appeal, because I did wistfully recall how quick they were by comparison with what I do now, but they have no hold.

I am not at the end of my nutrition journey. What I eat now is better than what I eat then, but I imagine a similar account of looking at today's fare with the same thoughts in my head that were there about yesterday's fare. I eagerly await the fortitude that I will surely have in that eventual tomorrow, when I eat what more health-minded friends eat. Let us hope that I do not wait so long that the better food comes by means of a hospice nurse with a tube.