Losing weight doesn’t have to include deprivation from all things delicious. 

As a matter of fact, I encourage you to joyfully indulge.  Not all the time.  Then it wouldn’t be special.  More like 10% of the time.  That’s not to say that the other 90% of the food you eat can’t be wonderful.  There’s nothing better than fresh berries or a grilled chicken kabob.  Joyful indulgence is different in that no nutritional value is required.

Let’s clarify.  When I say indulgence, I mean love every bite, close your eyes in ecstasy, make-moaning-sounds-because-your-taste-buds-are-on-sensory-overload-joy-in-your-mouth indulgence.

I actually googled “indulge” to see if I could find a more delicious word to explain and found a favorite:   Rollick.  To rollick is “to move or act in a carefree, frolicsome and joyous manner; to behave in free, hearty and jovial way.”

Joyful indulgence really has no rules other than:

1.       Don’t do it if it isn’t wonderfully delightful to your senses.  Indulgent in the planning process.  Delicious in your mouth.  Totally allowed in your mind.  There is no secret stash or sneak eating in private.  There is no sin involved and no beating yourself up afterwards.  Pure joy before, during and after.  Over the top absurd degrees of rollicking.

2.       Stop eating when it stops bringing you joy.   Think about that favorite ice cream.  When does your tongue become so cold that you don’t really taste all the yumminess anymore?  If that’s five bites into the pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Therapy… then stop right there.  Think about it.  If you can’t taste it, is it really joyful?  Clever name for the ice cream, but it really isn’t a good therapy solution.

3.       Stop at 10%.  One moderate serving per day of whatever delights you… or a joy meal every so often.  Enjoy festive holiday meals… but maybe not a whole week of hog wild abandon.  Too much of a good thing is actually too much. 

This is all about your choice of delicious.  Your definition of yummy rules.  Don’t settle for the Crisco icing grocery bought sheet cake unless that’s your picture of over-the-top goodness.  Don’t settle for pleasing Aunt Gertrude if mincemeat pie isn’t really your thing.

Since I get to choose my 10%…  I don’t settle. 

One of my favorite things is pecan pie.  My grandmother used to make it from the pecans that were picked up & shelled from her yard.  (At least that’s how I remember it… possibly they weren’t all from her trees.)   If I’m going to eat it… it’s going to be homemade with local pecans and sweetened with those southern Alabama memories.   What this means is that I’ll only eat mom’s pecan pie now because she uses Grandmamma Mac’s recipe.

Because it really isn’t just about the pie. 

It’s about the memories of hulling pecans, shelling peas, jumping on hay bales and smelling the rose garden.  It’s about family and things that are special.  Just writing about it is as delicious as eating it right now.  It’s about the joy that my definition of pecan pie brings.   Any other pecan pie simply isn’t worth the calories.

But can food really bring joy?  Sometimes yes.  Sometimes it just pretends to for a few minutes. 

Tell yourself the truth about which is which.   Then indulge in edible joy when it’s totally worth it and it doesn’t feel like settling.

When do you indulge?  And when is it simply not worth it to settle?

PS – Hey, Mom?  This didn’t start out to be a ‘hint, hint’ type post… but can we make some pecan pies over Thanksgiving weekend this year?