We Need To Talk

Being Valentine’s Day I thought it only fitting that we dive under the covers together, because I think it’s high time we got a little more intimate.  We’ve been hanging out for a while now – and we need to talk.

We need to talk about emotions.  And chicken.  Kentucky Fried Chicken to be precise.

It’s true.  I do *love* KFC.  LOVE it.  I suspect that I am not alone in this unrequited love.   I am also not too proud to declare that love far & wide.  I suspect that I am rather more alone in that endeavour – especially since I have this healthy-eating blog thing goin’ on, and a podcast listened to all over the world by hundreds of thousands of people where I extol the virtues of eating smarter.  I am not supposed to even mention the name KFC, let alone write about it – or heaven forbid – EAT IT.

But the truth is – even the sight of the bucket makes my heart beat just a little bit faster.  So before I receive an inbox full of flame mail about how I could possibly call myself the Queen of *SANEity and then write an entire post proclaiming the utter yumminess of Kentucky Fried Chicken, hear me out.

Just like you, I am human.  And just like you, I have emotions.  And sometimes, just like yours, those emotions are more powerful than anything else that’s going on.  I know this about you because Jonathan and I receive tons of pleas to talk about emotional eating.  It seems that emotional eating is sometimes all that is standing between us and *SANEity.  I want you to know – I get it.  Truly, deeply get it.  I also want you to know that emotions are like waves – we can’t stop them from coming, but we can choose which ones to surf.  And every once in a while I choose to surf the KFC wave – because sometimes we need to let our emotions have their moment in the spotlight in order to stop them incessantly demanding attention in increasingly unhealthy ways.

So what is it about Kentucky Fried Chicken that makes me drool?  Nothing.  Why does KFC have the ability to make me do inSANE things?  It doesn’t.  It’s absolutely nothing to do with the chicken.  It’s all about the emotions, Baby.

It all began several years ago – ok, a long time ago – before I was even a teenager.  Every other Saturday my family would make the hour-and-a-quarter long drive up to London to my grandparents house to spend the afternoon and have tea with them.  In those days the term “tea” in this context meant a meal consisting  of sandwiches or bread and butter with jam, maybe some cheese and cold meat, and then a piece of cake, all served with a pot of tea.  This was either the last meal of the day or a light meal served between lunch and dinner.  For our family it was the last meal of the day.

We usually left our grandparents around 8 pm to head home, and one {entirely} memorable night my father did something quite extraordinary & totally out of character.  Driving down the road he suddenly pulled over and stopped outside a Kentucky Fried Chicken store.  He turned to our mother and said “Let’s have chicken and chips.”  My brother and I sat in stunned silence in the back seat wondering what on earth our mother’s response would be, and if, in fact, the world would ever be the same again.  To our utter astonishment she simply agreed.  They left us in the car while they went into the store to get 4 boxes of chicken and chips.  {Bro – chime in anytime you want.}

To appreciate this tale, you have to understand the utter enormity of what was taking place.  We had a whole slug of unwritten codes of conduct in our family, some of which included:

1. You NEVER eat in public unless you are at a restaurant, sat at a table, using a knife and fork.

2. You NEVER have extra meals outside of the 3 structured, regular-as-clockwork meals that your mother prepares.

3. You NEVER eat fast food, junk food or pretty much anything that isn’t made from scratch by your mother.

4. You NEVER do anything random or unplanned, reckless or spontaneous.

5. You NEVER spend money on anything that is not a necessity (unless it is Christmas).

6. You NEVER do anything just because it is fun or enjoyable.

This was a family who only ate sweets (candy) for one week a year – from Christmas to New Year.  A family who only drank fizzy drinks (soda, pop) that same week; who only had crisps (chips), chocolate biscuits (cookies), and chocolate that same one week of the year.  The same family who ate ice cream maybe twice a year, never went to a fast food place, and had never eaten burgers or a hot-dog.  A family that had only two family vacations that I can remember in the 21 years I lived at home.  A family that almost exclusively only saw any other members of the family (outside of our paternal grandparents) at 21st birthday parties, weddings, and funerals.

Trust me.  This spontaneous pit stop at KFC was a huge deal.  HUGE.  It has remained imprinted on my mind, my heart, my soul…forever.  It was a defining moment.  We ate chicken and chips in the car.

Understand that when I confess to a run-in with a bucket of chicken, I am choosing to let my body live with a dash of inSANEity in order to take care of my emotions.  AND THAT’S OK.  Because sometimes that is the right thing to do to keep yourself in balance.  If you’ve been living SANE for a while, your body is likely very good at dealing with the odd moment of inSANEity, and it will not have any detrimental effect at all.  The {far} greater harm would be in beating yourself up mercilessly over 3 pieces of chicken with a small amount of wheat glued to it.

So don’t tell anyone, but last Thursday night (which is my Friday) I went to KFC on the way home and bought a bucket of chicken!!!!  And I ate it all!!!!  And it was AWESOME!!!!  And I didn’t die!!!!  And I didn’t put on 4 lbs overnight!!!!  In fact – nothing bad happened.  At all.  Fresh, hot, juicy chicken wrapped in that secret blend of 11 herbs & spices clinging to the semi-crispy, delicious tasty skin.  I am salivating just thinking about it.  And sometimes, as was the case at about 8 pm on that particular Thursday night, there was no apparent reason for it…I just had this random, spontaneous desire to eat KFC.  AND THAT’S OK.

And then, the next day I woke up and went on my merry SANE way.  And I won’t eat KFC again until the next KFC wave comes rolling in – which likely won’t be for 6 months, or maybe even a year.  Because I took care of my emotions and the cravings went on their way.  I think it may have been a {very} different story if I’d gone into battle with my emotions instead of just letting them have their moment.

Sometimes you have to lose the battle in order to win the war.

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!!