Alexander (my son) no longer wakes me before he leaves for school. He’s a junior at Horace Mann (a highly competitive NYC private school). Alexander has to leave the house in time to catch a 7:37 bus. He leaves at 7:36. True, the bus is on the corner. But even still, if he sneezes and has to get a kleenix, he’ll miss the bus. He says he’s weighed the cost-benefit of my getting up and has decided that the potential benefit (my making him and serving him breakfast) does not outweigh the cost (my reminding him of what he has to do, and my urging-he'd say nagging- him to leave earlier than 7:36). He’s taking AP Economics and this, so far, is what he’s learned. I don’t object, though, because this way I don’t have to look at the omelets I make for him. And, I get to sleep later.
So today I awoke at 10, which is about two or more hours later than I usually do. I had to rush to get to an 11am meeting on our school benefit at a nearby Starbucks, and didn’t have time for even a 1-point English Muffin. So while hungry through my 90-minute meeting, I didn’t mind as that gave me more points for the rest of the day (even though we are NOT supposed to hoard points on this diet).
Tonight I’m going to theater with a friend of mine, and as is my habit now, I’m skipping eating out beforehand. I find it much easier to eat at home.
I remember having a feeling of superiority when I used to run. I specifically remember being in Central Park on a very cold January day, and running in a short sweatshirt, passing people bundled in their down jackets and shearling coats. I had a similar feeling today as I picked no-fat yogurt, roasted vegetables, and plain chicken off the shelves at Agata Valentina, the gourmet grocery a half block away. I could walk by the tempting cheeses easily, snub the prepared hot foods (with the exception of the vegetables), and ignore the desserts, and not even feel tempted. I stared at the skinny girl in front of me in line and thought that in a few months, I too, may look good from the back. Or at least not bad.
I remember having a feeling of superiority when I used to run. I specifically remember being in Central Park on a very cold January day, and running in a short sweatshirt, passing people bundled in their down jackets and shearling coats. I had a similar feeling today as I picked no-fat yogurt, roasted vegetables, and plain chicken off the shelves at Agata Valentina, the gourmet grocery a half block away. I could walk by the tempting cheeses easily, snub the prepared hot foods (with the exception of the vegetables), and ignore the desserts, and not even feel tempted. I stared at the skinny girl in front of me in line and thought that in a few months, I too, may look good from the back. Or at least not bad.
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