B2B day...whatever

Okay, so I lost count.  But I haven't stopped counting my calories!

Yesterday, even with the asiago bagel, I did okay.  Pumpkin said that she can't eat bagels.  Well, I probably shouldn't be eating them--and after I get my second fill next Friday--I probably won't be able to, either. So I enjoyed this one while I could.

Yesterdays food looked like this:

7am: Unjury Shake made with Silk                                  180cal
12pm: Asiago Bagel (toasted)                                        330cal
          plain cream cheese                                             190cal   
          cucumber                                                              free
          Boars Head oven gold turkey breast                        60cal
4pm: slice of ham                                                          30cal
6:30:Chicken enchilada suprise                                     1180cal
10pm: 1/3   of Skinny Cow ice cream cup                           50cal    
Total calories:                                                                       2020   

So, was I awesome? Meh, not really. I didn't NEED the bagel with cream cheese. I didn't need the ice cream.  I didn't need to eat the ENTIRE dish of chicken enchilada suprise...but I did. I am not proud of myself. I am actually disappointed. I was perfectly happy with a single portion that would have kept me well under my calories for the day. And then I ate the rest of it. I regretted it, too.  

This is what I deal with EVERY SINGLE DAY. I know that I'm satisfied with a portion. I know that I'm 'full' and that I've had enough and that I should walk away. I know that if I am truly hungry, that I can walk into the kitchen at any time and get something to eat. I don't know why I have these issues with food and having to eat all of something at one time.  I bet that it would have been really good as leftovers for dinner tonight--but I'll never know that now. 

I have no idea why I have this in my head. I grew up in a house where we never wanted for food. I had plenty of love and affection. I was never really denied anything growing up (well, except for the major life altering things like a brand new mustang convertible on my 16th birthday, the 'perfect' LL Bean ski sweater for Christmas one year...things like that). I wasn't a spoiled rich girl, but my dad worked hard to provide for us. My mom stayed at home and was there every single day when we got home from school. We had chores and were taught to work hard for what we wanted.   

I had a good childhood.  

So why am I so screwed up in my relationship with food?