Two Weeks Down, Fifty to Go

Today marks the end of the second week of our Eat at Home Project. We have spent a little over half of the money we budgeted for eating out, and we feel pretty good about that accomplishment. As my husband and I trekked through the grocery store this evening, we discussed whether or not we missed fast food. Jeff said he hasn't missed it at all, and as an added benefit he's lost a few pounds from not eating all the junk. I, too, have lost a few pounds, but probably because I'm tracking the calories, though upon further contemplation I get many more bites for the buck at home than I would at the local drive-thru. I have to admit, though, that I kind of miss it. I miss the five-minute detour that means I don't have to go home and cook something after working all day. I miss the reward factor of making it through a tough day and hearing Jeff say, "Let me buy you dinner." Mind you, I don't miss it enough to go back to spending the money we were forking over weekly, but I do have to say that some nights are more difficult than others. Is there a 12-step program for recovering fast-food addicts? Should I join a support group for women who actually cook dinner? Sometimes I wonder.

I'm still figuring out the best way to cope with my convenience cravings. So far, pizza night in the middle of the week has been the best strategy since any one of us can open the boxes, turn on the oven, and set the timer. With this thought in my head, I looked over the freezer section carefully tonight. Should we get some beer-battered fish? What about a frozen lasagna? Unfortunately for me, I look at all the food and think, "This is expensive, and my version is at least twice as good." So we drove home with sacks full of fruit, natural cheese, and fresh vegetables instead of pre-made, homogenized, chemically-enhanced casseroles. For this my brain and my stomach join forces in a chorus of "I love you, food!" - at least for today. By Wednesday, the two will be arguing about whose idea it was to plan on cooking every night instead of using the microwave. Perhaps, in the long run, my waistline will thank me and the other parts will fall in line, like good little soldiers. Until then, I'll keep taking the Eat at Home Project one day at a time.