I’ve tried. I’ve really, really tried. I’ve cooked eggs a half-dozen different ways. I’ve spread peanut butter on toast. I’ve done every kind of cereal known to man. I’ve tried those nasty weight-loss shakes. I’ve eaten oatmeal and Crème of Wheat. English Muffins, bagels, and donuts on Friday. It really doesn’t matter what I’ve tried to eat for breakfast because the fact remains, I hate breakfast.
If breakfast is the most important meal of the day, then I must totally suck. And I must be the biggest failure. But it is so hard for me eat in the morning.
My alarm goes off at 6:45 nearly every morning (don’t be telling me how late I get up, I don’t make it to bed until after midnight). Fifteen minutes later, I’m dressed in my workout clothes and I’m doing my best to get my son up and ready for school. Thirty minutes later, I’ve checked email, packed lunches, and have shoo’ed my family out the door so that I can officially start my day. And yes, I even make them all breakfast. But me? I don’t want breakfast. I’m not interested in breakfast. The thought of breakfast makes me want to dry heave in the sink.
I know I’m supposed to want to eat breakfast. I know that my metabolism doesn’t kick start in the morning until I eat. But I’m really not hungry. Not even a little bit hungry. And doesn’t eating when not hungry breaks like a million other diet rules? The way I see it, “The Never Eat Unless You are Hungry” rule totally trumps “The Never Miss Breakfast” rule.
Besides, our mornings are rushed enough. None of us are real morning people in this house. We all get up at the last possible minute and get what needs to get done in the least time possible. So I’ll survive on my banana and yogurt at 11 a.m., hours after I’ve woken up and often times after my daily two-mile walk.
Hey, 11 a.m. is still the morning right? Maybe I do eat breakfast after all.