Over the past week or so, I’ve been going through the Glowing manuscript again in order to fix up some formatting issues. As I’ve gone through what I wrote over the past year, I couldn’t stop reading through Chapter 2: The Fuel over and over again. Why? Because talking about food makes me so uncomfortable.
If I wasn’t clear in my book (and I’m not sure I was), let me be clear:
The truth is, pictures from cookbooks often annoy me. I mean, who looks like this when they’re cooking? (And I don’t mean any offense to Alicia Silverstone – she and her cookbook are great.) I love looking at awesome pictures of food, but not so much of the beautiful celebrities making their perfect vegan/paleo/whatever meals.
That’s not me. What I write about represents an ideal – the way I want to be, the way I want to construct my diet. Not the way I eat 100% of the time. The way I try to eat.
Last summer, when I wrote Chapter 3 of my book, I was eating a really clean diet, green juice and all. And that’s really easy to do in the summer! But now, at the end of winter, after spending months diving into the sedentary activity of writing, I’ve gained 15 pounds. Next to my computer here on the table sits an empty box of Junior Mints. And an empty Milky Way wrapper. Yup, the junkiest of the junk food. Those homemade candy bars I mentioned in the book that I often made for myself are long forgotten!
And there it is, the reason I hate writing about food. I’m not perfect. No one is, nor should we be!
So no matter what you read (even in my book), don’t overthink it. Don’t overdoit. Don’t get caught up in the sexy dietary drama. Cuz it ain’t as sexy as it looks (no matter what those celebrity cookbooks portray).
Just eat. Eat as well as you can. Do your best. And forget the rest.