Over the holidays, at some point between eating my third helping of leche flan, and my late-night gorging of a cookie-pie-a-la-mode, I recognized that I need to reconsider my relationship with indulgence. It’s not like I ball out of control, or exist anywhere within the realm of gluttony. At least I don’t think I do. Honestly, it’s hard to judge as an American amidst the culture of vices, of “treat yo self” because “you deserve it.” In D.C., a ridiculously expensive city occupied by people with hella disposable income earned by very stressful living has set the scene for any and every moment to call for excess.
It’s Sunday!
Treat yo self to brunch with bottomless mimosas.
It’s been a hard day at work!
Time to veg out in front of Netflix for three hours.
It’s your coffee break!
You deserve a latte with whipped cream, and you might as well get that chocolate cake lollipop, too. You gotta splurge a little every now and then.
Every now and then?
The fact that any occasion can be a special occasion – that three days out of the week can technically count as the weekend, that hump day calls for a mid-week treat, and the rest of the days are apt with excuses to let go too – is actually an incredible opportunity to be constantly grateful. There’s always a reason to toast. But more often than not, we skip the toast and go straight for the shot. Instead of actually experiencing these instances as true moments of appreciation, we’ve created protocols for an expensive and unhealthy status-quo of overconsumption.
In trying to exercise restraint, I’ve learned that using the rest of society as a reference might be worse than simply looking within myself. In fact, one of my worst enablers is my confidence that whatever I’m pigging out on is healthier than the daily breakfast donuts of the folks on the bus, or less expensive than everyone else’s daily Frappuccino. Nothing’s too much as long as it’s not that much. There’s always someone who eats more sugar, spends more on gadgets, drinks more alcohol, or engages in decadent activity that makes your own actions seem “modest.” And while I know that I generally eat healthier and more cost-effectively than most people around me, I must constantly remind myself that everything is relative, and the relativity I live in is one that includes unicorn cronuts. Such delicacies seem easy enough to keep at an arm’s length, it’s in the middle of a long and stressful Tuesday in the office.
So my aspirations for this coming year can be summed up in the manta, “consume less, appreciate more.” To me, this means noticing every time a voice in my head tempts me to indulge in something simply because I deserve it. I’m realizing that the logic of consuming something simply because you deserve it is a twisted call to action based on a sense of self worth that could instead be channeled toward something positive. Instead of constantly convincing myself that “I deserve it,” I need to be asking myself, “does it deserve me?” To imagine my brain, my body, my attention as an exclusive space means that some things – however delicious or delightful – may not be good enough to be welcomed into the incredible existence I’m building for myself. What then remains are the true indulgences – the rare moments that can be anticipated, savored, and reflected upon with deep appreciation. A curated experience, one truly fit for this life.