I Knew It. The Mexican Food Would Get Me.

For the month of February, I set out to get straightened out with eating out. Yes, the dangerous trio of "outs." You see, me and the fam have gotten entirely too dependent on ordering our dinner. And I never seem to remember to bring my lunch to work with me, so I go pick something up. On weekends, there's nothing better than eating a leisurely breakfast at The Village. It's just gotten out of control.

Granted, I have a few excuses up my sleeve:  I hate to cook, I suck at cooking, I am exhausted when I get home, I love to eat out, blah blah. They're all lame.

On the last day of January, I declared that I would not eat out a single time in the month of February--for breakfast, lunch or dinner. No coffees in the Starbuck's drive-thru, no sporadic "let's go get ice cream!" after dinner runs, no ordering or eating out of any kind. You get it. The reasons?

Other than the fact that my reliance on restaurant food is a nauseating habit--wasteful and far too indulgent--it causes other gross things to happen, like:

1. I eat meals that are far too large, with far too many calories.
2. I spend way too much money on food laden with who knows what as the main and secondary ingredients--money that could be used for charitable purposes. Or clothes. Or saving. Or clothes. I'm going back to that.
3. I feel guilty hearing stepson say "What are we ordering for dinner?" instead of "What's for dinner?"

I know, it's bad.

So I've done pretty damn good...until now. Husband was the first to break. He bought a slice of pizza one day. I've eaten out during a couple of days at a conference (give me a break on that one, I really couldn't help but do it), a lunch date with a friend when I seriously forgot to bring the picnic food from home, a professional development luncheon, and that's about it.

Last weekend the craving for Mexican food crept over me like a gorgeous stranger singing Peter Gabriel. I had to do it. I didn't have to do much convincing to get the boys over to Pablano's for a linner (lunch + dinner), and that seemed to herald the end of the restaurant strike. Yesterday I picked up dinner for my friend who needed a little cheering up, and of course, I brought some home for the fam.

Five minutes ago, I got this call from Husband:

"Okay, I'm finally on the way home. Since we ah, um broke the, you know...Want me to pick up Chinese?"

I'm still blaming it all on the Mexican food.