What actually happened at the all you can eat Italian (part two)

If you read part one, you'll know I went into Wednesday night with a plan. Not a food plan. Not a one plate rule or a skip lunch to save room strategy. Just a set of tools, a relaxed mindset, and a genuine intention to enjoy Sue's birthday dinner without it being a whole thing. 

So here's what actually happened.

The Castle was absolutely roasting. I had a polo neck on. My window of tolerance was already shrinking before I'd even looked at the menu. 

Luca came with us, which if you have a toddler you'll know adds a specific low level anxiety to any evening out. Will he sit down? Will he eat? Will he dramatically throw himself off something? 

He was fine. 

He ate a decent amount of carbonara and sat on his bum the whole time. 

A win. 

Stefan, true to form, was not 15 minutes late. Stefan is habitually 15 minutes late for everything. He was not late for an all you can eat buffet. Make of that what you will.

The spread was better than I expected. 

Pepperoni and margherita pizza, beef lasagne, pork meatballs in a ragu, carbonara, gnocchi in a garlicky herb sauce, mushroom arancini, potato and cheese croquettes, a tomato mascarpone risotto that was really fabulous, garlic bread, and a bit of salad. 

I had a little bit of most things on my first plate.

 Not because I was following a rule about variety. 

Just because it all looked nice and I wanted to try it. 

Second plate, I went back for the things I'd really enjoyed. The lasagne, another slice of pizza, more of that risotto, the gnocchi, a bit more salad, some garlic bread. 

I had a small Merlot. It was in a lovely goblet glass. 

Could I have had a large one? 

Absolutely. 

But it wasn't really about the wine. It just went nicely with the food. That was it.

 Two plates. A glass of wine. A nice time.

Here's where it gets interesting. 

At the end of the meal, the server came round with free tiramisu for the adults. 

I like tiramisu, so I said yes.

 And then I started eating it while chatting to Ruby, not really paying attention, not really tasting it. 

Just eating it because it was there. 

Sue said, this is really bland, isn't it? And Stef agreed. 

And I came back to what I was eating and thought, yeah, actually, it is. 

It was clearly defrosted. The sponge fingers were still a bit crunchy. 

It was nothing special at all. 

And I'd nearly eaten the whole thing without noticing. 

This is something I talk about a lot with my clients. 

Mindful eating isn't about being precious about food. 

It's just about being present enough to actually taste what you're eating. 

I wasn't. 

I was mid-conversation and on autopilot. 

If I'd been paying attention, I'd probably have left it. 

Not because I wasn't allowed it. 

Because it wasn't actually nice and I'd already had enough food that I genuinely enjoyed. 

That's the honest reflection from the evening. Not a failure. Just something worth noticing.

I also noticed something about myself with the tiramisu, beyond just the mindfulness bit. 

I'm not someone who says out loud that I don't like something when I'm with other people. 

I don't want to put a dampener on things or make anyone feel like they can't enjoy it. 

So even when Sue said it wasn't great, I didn't really add my voice to that straight away. 

That's the people pleasing I mentioned in part one. Not always saying yes to things. 

Sometimes not saying your true feeling either. 

It's quieter than people expect, but it's still there. 

Worth noticing. Filed away. No drama.

What happened the next day?

Protein porridge. Eggs on toast. Taught a Pilates class. Decaf cappuccino. Didn't have a scone because I wasn't hungry. 

That was it. 

No spiral. 

No compensation. 

No intrusive thoughts about the night before. 

No Monday feeling on a Thursday. 

Just a normal day after a nice evening out.

This is what unremarkable looks like.

I know that might sound boring. 

And honestly, it is a bit boring. 

That's the whole point. 

A good relationship with food doesn't have a dramatic arc.

There's no before and after. There's no white knuckling it through the buffet or starting again fresh the next morning. 

There's just a meal out, enjoyed, and then you go home and get on with your life. Sue, who has done my mindful eating workshop, stopped when she'd had enough because she doesn't like feeling too full. 

That's it. 

That's the work. 

Right there at a table in The Castle on a Wednesday night. 

Stefan overate and felt rough afterwards. He'll do it again next time, probably. That's where he is right now, and that's fine. 

And I went home, had a cup of tea, and filed the evening away as a good time. 

If you're reading this and thinking, I could never do that, I can't be trusted around a buffet, I would eat everything and then spiral for the rest of the week, I want you to know that it doesn't have to be like that. 

It genuinely doesn't. 

That unremarkable, easy, enjoyable relationship with food? You can have it too. 

It takes work to get there, but it is absolutely doable. 

If you want to get there, 1-1 coaching is six months at £199 a month. Three months of weekly calls, two months of fortnightly calls, and a final month of WhatsApp support so you feel held the whole way through. 

Or if you want to start with a conversation, book a free 30 minute call with me. No obligations, no sales pitch. Just a proper chat about where you are and what's going on for you. 

Because you deserve a meal out, that's just a meal out.

Book your call here.

Listen to both parts of this episode of Chatting with Cara wherever you get your podcasts.