It seems like a no-brainer, huh? If that wasn't enough of a temptation, one of the special little "treats" I give myself after the end of a presentation is a giant order of fries. I don't know how it started, however, it's taken on a life of its own. It is no longer within my power to control. I must merely oblige the potato Gods for I wish to not incur their complex-carbohydrate-like wrath.
So, I just finished conducting a motivational/workshop/training presentation for the Texas, Child Protective Services. It's three hours long and I'm whipped. Now, I know that many people work eight (or more) hours a day. However, when you're speaking, not only are you living out of suitcases, you're in a town you don't know, and at the mercy of transportation that's unfamiliar. (Picture all the hassles of vacation without the trip to Disneyland at the end.) On top of that, when you're on stage, you're "ON." It's your job to hold the audience, to move them between motivation, education, and humor; to watch out for distractions, to keep them engaged, and to make sure the meeting planner's objectives are met. Don't get me wrong; I love what I do. It's also a great privilege. But it can knock you on your behind when you're done.
OK, so you've got the back story. Let's roll forward.
My presentation ended at 12:00. After lunch, I went back to my hotel room; it's a nice place but most hotel rooms look like most others and you can only spend so much time looking at the same artwork and TV shows you've seen in every other lodging establishment. After awhile, boredom sets in.
For me, boredom is deadly with regards to my diet. I tend to eat when I get bored (or depressed or angry or happy or frustrated or...) So, being bored, trapped in my hotel, and not having eaten for awhile, I start mulling over my options, which are not numerous because the hotel is on a freeway, I don't have a car, and it's a freakin' 234 degrees outside.
Nonetheless, I do have to eat.
The nearest eatery is a fast food establishment; I can walk the few blocks without passing out from heat exhaustion. Unfortunately, all they have are hamburgers, fried foods, and of course -- French Fries! "Hallelujah!" shouts my inner child. "I deserve it. After all, I've done a good presentation and I've walked a few hundred yards through a blast furnace. Go for it."
And then, alas, the other side of me inconveniently chimes in, "Just because you're out of town and you usually eat French Fries doesn't mean it's an edict. How about a salad? Think how much better you'll feel."
"Forget the salad," says voice one. "You're always so in control. Let your hair down. Besides, do you see a salad bar anywhere around here?" As I scanned the horizon (hoping NOT to see one), I see a submarine sandwich shop across the interstate. I'm thinking, "Well, even if they don't have salads, they'll probably have something healthier than French Fries."
"Yes," says chubby devil inner voice, "But it's all the way across the freeway. People in Texas drive fast. You could get killed getting over there. Besides, it's really hot. You could drop dead from this heat in the time it takes you to get over there. Every minute you think about this, you're risking death."
I guess, in the end, my skinny angels won out. I traipsed across the interstate (there was a walkway; don't worry), wandered into Thundercloud Subs, and without waiting for the remorse to set in, asked for salad.
It wasn't a big accomplishment, but it felt good in the end (boring while I ate it). The good news is when I came back from my trip, I had actually lost a few pounds.