The more pizza I eat, the better I feel.
On Tuesdays, I dig into a big, gooey, cheesy pizza with my family.
(I live in the Chicago ‘burbs.
Photo: Getty / Vladislav Nosick
I think it’s a Midwestern thing.)
Years ago, this wouldn’t have been possible for me.
My oldest son is four.
(This was clearly before coronavirus-related social distancing.)
We rotate who gets to choose the restaurant.
I go for the wood-firedI love a good blistered crust.
My husband loves the greasier stuff.
And my four-year-old son picks a place with a past-its-prime arcade because: prizes.
It’s not the best pizza, but I eat it anyway.
The idea of eating pizza weekly totally freaked me out.
I’d want morebut I wouldn’t let myself have it.
“The calories have to be worth it,” I told myself.
Going out was full of rules and fear.
And at first, I felt a bit out of control around food like pizza.
I’d eat past feelings of fullness and leave the table uncomfortable.
Guilt would set in and I’d be nervous about repeating it all again next week.
Over time though, a fantastic thing happened: habituation.
Pizza Tuesdays were met with excitement.
And also, a shrug.
The more I allowed myself to eat pizza regularly, the more it began to lose its luster.
If we went out to a place that was ho-hum, it didn’t matter.
It wasn’t a “waste of calories” like I believed before.
It was just dinner.
And I needed to eat.
Get that ice cream out of the house before you overeat.
Only go out to buy dessert that youreallylove to make it worth it.
That stuff doesn’t work.
Restriction is a quick way to feel out of control.
I should also mention that we always order pepperoni.
None of that would have been possible if we hadn’t instituted our pizza Tuesdays.
