Of course, Ed probably will never just walk into a bar.  He’s (She?  Why be sexist?) is invited, welcomed, and is probably considered a relief.  It’s something that, theoretically, understands, supports, and is always present.

Still, just like a bad boyfriend or girlfriend, Ed is patient, controlling, and selfish.  The disease likes to prey on the relationship.  Just when you think you’re doing good — it pops up — and you’re not doing so good.

Case-in-point.
I was doing great yesterday.

Breakfast was my usual Lincoln Square chicken healthy start —  but — I kept the feta cheese and consumed the wheat bread toast that my gluten prohibited mother couldn’t eat.

==  Okay, check.   Not to bad.  The toast was good and the eggs where egg whites – so, overall, awesome.

Lunch was also out —  Puccini’s Smiling Teeth – with mom and Bill.  Mom got some startling overpriced gluten-free spaghetti and some thoughtfully provided gluten-free garlic bread.  Bill had some sort of sub.  I, given thought to the price and personal challenge, had the lunch special.  Diet Pepsi + House Salad (..  Did the french dressing for the first time!) and a slice of humble pie (sun dried tomatoes, basil, garlic).

==  Okay – Sure, with the breakfast toast and the pizza crust, that’s a hell of a lot of carbs – at least more than I’d allow myself to have on a bad day.  Still, I’ve been trying to get mom to try Puccini forever and ever so she’d have a place to eat pizza if she wanted.  Again, I reasoned – so far so good.

Dinner – here was the real test – for some apparent reason.

To set the scene, I had just gotten off the phone with Aunt Sarah so in her aged, crackly, but still forceful voice – “Are you eating what you’re supposed to?”  —  which was asked multiple times, loudly, on speakerphone.  Okay, whatever, she means well.

For some reason, I was craving the special shakes mom makes every day.  Instead of having one at night and one in the morning, I downed both of them within a couple of hours.  Because they didn’t have frozen fruit, the amount wasn’t that much.  One Quest peanut butter and one Quest salted caramel down.

The main course was Culver’s Chili.  My sister is the proud manager of the only Culver’s in the area for the past 10 years.  Sure, she fusses and complains, but my sister loves it.  She takes pride in her staff and the food the business offers.  Culver’s is a place I’ve never ordered more than a diet root beer (which is awesome) and a salad for mom.  I had — never — ever — ate there properly.

Given my string of victories, I decided to try the chili.  I’m not fond of the slimy bean feelings, but tend to enjoy the overall flavor.  A regular portion of the deep red concoction had disappeared when a small argument broke out – Sister said the chili isn’t gluten free.  I said it was —  and I was right.  The website says there’s soy somewhere in it, but not gluten.

Since I was there – I checked the nutritional content.  How bad could it be, right?  It’s just beans, celery, some beef, and other things.  How bad could it be in a day of victories?

Actually, it’s pretty bad.  A quick cross reference with Wendy’s chili doubled down the Ed – as the fat content was — double — than the famed red-headed poster child.

At that point –  I just couldn’t finish.
My mind started to coldly replay all of the carbs and salad dressing adventures I had earlier in the day.  A careful analysis brought about anxiety and thoughts along the lines of “and what the %($# do you think you’re doing…”

Somewhat discreetly, without sister’s knowledge, the chili found a home in the trash –  not to far from the Starbucks coffee glass.

What happened – Ed or healthy eating concern?
Failing of willpower?
What about the chili made me flip?

I’ll have to think…