The Sunday Dinner Problem

My wife has pointed out something about the way I eat Sunday dinner that I hadn’t really thought about.

Apparently, I target the good stuff first.

Yorkshire pudding.

Roast potatoes.

Whatever part of the meal I particularly like.

She’s not wrong.

It’s not that I’d eat those things and then leave the rest behind. Historically, I’d eat the things I really wanted first and then carry on until the plate was clean.

Nothing was being left.

That makes what is happening now rather more interesting.

When I stop eating because I’m full, I’m not necessarily leaving the boring bits.

I’m leaving the things I actually want.

And that can genuinely piss me off.

Leaving two roast potatoes behind isn’t some noble act of dietary discipline when those are the fucking things I wanted to eat.

Part of my brain is still saying:

But they’re the best bit.

And another part is saying:

Yes. And you’re full.

That is a much harder argument than simply leaving something you weren’t particularly bothered about.

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Which makes stopping now quite strange

That’s why something as ridiculous as leaving two roast potatoes behind can feel like a bigger deal than it sounds.

I’m not somebody who has suddenly discovered that they don’t like food.

Quite the opposite.

I still fucking love food.

I still deliberately eat the things I enjoy.

I still look forward to Sunday dinner.

I still want the Yorkshire pudding.

I still want the roast potatoes.

The difference is that I’m beginning to experience something that used to be almost impossible for me:

I can want the food and still not eat it.

Sometimes.

Not always.

And it isn’t effortless.

The desire doesn’t necessarily disappear.

I just sometimes manage to recognise that I’m full and stop anyway.

That’s probably one of the biggest changes Mounjaro has given me.

It hasn’t removed my love of food.

It has given me a chance to put a gap between wanting food and eating food.

What happens in that gap is still a battle.