I ate a chocolate croissant on Sunday. I’ve been wanting one for a month, since seeing “It’s Complicated” on Valentines Day. Watching Meryl Streep & Steve Martin bake and delight in a batch of chocolate croissants in that sweet Santa Barbara bakery planted a seed that was bound to grow.
Not that I’ve been resisting having one, or denying myself the pleasure since then. I just haven’t spent the time or energy to fit the chocolate croissant into my life. Today I happened to be hungry and near one of my favorite bakeries at the same time, and the puzzle pieces fit together just right.
It was deliciously buttery and flakey and about the size of my head. It was actually so chocolatey that I had to scoop out some of the center and leave it aside, knowing it would make me sick to eat it all.
So I savored the treat, and at the same time I was aware of some angsty guilt and foggy thoughts about all of the (refined sugar and flour?! eek!) reasons why I really shouldn’t be eating it.
Sometimes I have to go ahead and do it anyway. In fact, I had a hunch I would feel uncomfortable. And being all judgey about a simple croissant is one of the reasons I chose to indulge.
My eating has been pretty clean lately, and for me there is such a thing as too clean. Because, you know, I can make broccoli an unhealthy decision. Too clean can carve a rut every bit as formidable and controlling as overindulgence can feel reckless and out of control.
My judgmental thoughts and free-floating guilt are leftover from old, painful patterns. They still like to say hello, but they’re transparent and flimsy, they’ve lost their impressive sheen. Which means that they no longer control my next move.
I guess I’m not as impressed because now I believe that I’m allowed to eat a chocolate croissant.
I still wonder why I sometimes need to consciously choose to make myself eat the croissant.
I think it’s about reminding myself that I am allowed. And remembering that although chocolate croissants taste delicious, they are only a slice of the sweetness available in any moment.
Butter and chocolate are yummy. But when you deny yourself something, the buildup is extreme and sensational. And the fantasy represents more than a simple pastry could ever deliver.
I’m also going on location next week for a production shoot. Which means catering and craft services instead of green smoothies and veggie salads. Basically, very little control and plentiful junk.
I used to set up so many conditions to feel safe and empowered around food. And then panic at the idea of having less control over my options. Eating a chocolate croissant now is a way to remind myself that balance is safe, and that taking the middle way is sustainable and nourishing.
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Oooh, are you in a movie?
Ah yes, control. I remember not being able to have anything in the house that was “bad”, or not wanting to go to places where I might be able to choose something “bad”. In general, my life seems to have increased in happiness in direct proportion to my increase in butter consumption.
Most of the time I love working from home, but sometimes it is stifling.
Your comment, “only a slice of the sweetness available in any moment,” struck me very hard just now. Thank you for reminding me of the sweetness of the moments I have and helping me appreciate my life more.