…but first, the time line of historical pizza-problems that led up to the need for serious change:
1987 (age 14): I was eating an average 8 slices of Domino’s Pizza every Friday with no weight gain.
1989 – 2003: I barely ate pizza at all, so no problem.
2004: My pizza addiction began. I ate an average 6 slices of takeout pizza every Friday night (plus everyone’s leftover crust) — the greasy kind made by pizza employee Joe Schmoe, who probably scratched his balls with his bare hand before prepping my order.
2004 – 2010: I gained weight, then lost weight (yay!), but STILL had a pizza-eating problem. My fitness progress was there, but slow going.
Early 2011: I decided that enough was enough. I was sick and tired of being controlled by my addiction (I call it that now, but didn’t recognize it as addiction at the time), and slowly reduced my Friday pizza-eating from 6 slices down to 2. I also identified other greedy carb overloads and reduced or eliminated them all together (good-bye entire loaves of french bread thickly smathered in butter). All of this took me many months to master.
2012: I’m through with takeout pizza forever, yet I still love pizza and see no need to give it up. I simply choose to re-define the meaning of Pizza Night to ensure my body transformation continues.
THIS was my dinner tonight…
My homemade pizza (before baking).
Fresh ingredients included: spinach, plum tomatoes and onions, plus basil, other Italian seasonings, and easy on the cheese. My homemade pizza was less expensive than takeout and definitely less calories, while bigger on taste and satisfaction. And did I mention zero guilt?
My pizza after baking.
There’s no reason to give up the foods you love. Simply scale back if that works for you. But as for me and pizza? That called for a totally new definition of what Pizza Night means to me.
Joe Schmoe is no longer taking my orders. No more delivery of greasy pizzas to my door. I’m making the damn pizza myself. Because it’s just better that way. ((burp))
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