Attention and Chinese food

I'm due to take lunch, the night before I think about salads and how hot it is, and how good a salad would be for me. I can even taste it the fresh leaves, the crunch of robust vegetables. Yet come lunch time there I am back at the Chinese ordering another not so healthy large plate of grub.  I think my desire for food has become so habitual I'm having a problem breaking it. I try to walk about as much as I can while at work.  Just to break hours of sitting at a desk and the hope constant getting up is burning calories, is doing something. No matter how small it is. Walking up a couple of flights of stairs, going to a photocopier, anything just to move about. Sometimes I even fool myself I could be losing weight as I tug my belt tight. Then after another lunch I head to the newsagents and get a large bar of chocolate. It's on a deal and only costs £1.  How can it be resisted? It can't.  Again, there is some habitual thing going on, after lunch pop into newsagent, pop into pub for a coffee and try to chat to Sparkling Eyes. A near impossible task but I do try.  Back to the factory and it's just over an hour.  To sit in front of a computer monitor where the blue doughnut of doom revolves round and more patience is lost.

I read somewhere we use attention in everything we do, and it is like a resource.  When this attention water level drops there is a need to eat glucose.  So people who sit in offices with frustrating jobs, or overly demanding jobs get fat. It's not just the sedentary part. It's the waiting for IT to do something. Or rather the weighting. It is boredom which saps away at this resource of attention.  This patience. It gets bitten like a church mouse takes bit after bite from a biscuit. Then there are peaks in this demand, peaks which result in a sudden high level of frustration. Where there is a desire to pick up the machine and throw it out of the window.  Everyone gets this at times, of course nobody does actually do it, if they did then they wouldn't have a job on account of probably killing someone as the machine is dropped from a height.  The thought gives some relief though.  In this instance the thought is not father to the deed.  Just father to the desire and a mighty desire as well.  As mighty as my desire to continue eating Chinese food. I have a belly to prove it. Long gone are the days when it was flat. Now I fantasise about been slim as well. It doesn't last too long. Not after putting socks on or tying laces.

I also read, the most difficult thing to do is to give something up and then be hit with anther task which drains your resource of attention.  If I was determined to give up Chinese food but then had to cue in a shop to get my salad I just wouldn't be able to do it.  By the end of the day I'd be a complete wreck. Considering I'm a wreck at the end of most days already then I'd be a double wreck.  Laying on the rocks without a life raft in sight. But if my belly was full then I'd be satisfied, well, until next meal time anyway.  I'm in a moral, physical and psychological dilemma, where each thing is mutually reliant on the other thing. How on earth did I get here?