If they can’t agree on something as simple as COFFEE…
One says butter
One says black
One says sugar
One says honey
One says coconut
One says cream
I used to feel self-conscious, uncertain about taking my coffee black. Initially, I did so because I didn’t want to consume any incidental milk calories (because logically, we all know the extra 100 calories a day; but the blackness has a much different voice, one just as bitter and distasteful as some of the coffee I had at this time…). However, I have come to terms with the fact that for me, good coffee tastes better black. Today, when Science
Colleague Work Friend (the cookie saver/savior) asks me how I take it, I have the confidence to ask for it black (that, and Tim Hortons, seriously no vegan alternatives???).
However, I have days where the blackness is riding shotgun (as opposed to having been run over by me, leaving black-stained bloody tire treads along the path), and on those days, it makes me doubt myself. The blackness tells me that it is about calories, about restriction, about being less – and in doing so, it makes me feel just that, restricted and less.
I scream because why do I continue to have such a hard time coming to terms with my own version of reclaiming healthy? It is because recovery is ongoing, it is one day at a time.