So after Day 1′s rough start due to a microscopic ninja taking up residence inside my brain between my eyeballs, Day 2′s energy and satisfaction was a pleasant relief. I felt great. Long walk at the beach, followed by errands and a massive closet clean-up (I know, I know, my life is very exciting!) filled my day. I felt so good that I even managed to sit in the Chinese food shop and watch my boyf eat half a quart of egg drop wonton soup, dumplings and pork fried rice. Yep! Just sat there and watched him eat. And theeeeeen cuddled up on his shoulder in the movie theater while he chowed down on a bag of popcorn. Yep! I just smelled and watched. Can you believe it?
Sunday was a different story. I woke up weak and remained weak throughout the day. On numerous occasions I was ready to sack it all off. Here’s why:
1) I woke up in the middle of a dream about brownies.
2) We drove up to PDubbs to peruse the Adopt-a-thon at the local animal shelter. The only thing I wanted more than a puppy or kitty was a pulled pork chopped salad with BBQ sauce and honey mustard dressing from Harbor Q. If there is one place I need to avoid when fasting, it’s P Dubbs.
I begged the boyf to let me go get a salad. And while I am confident I would have been able to overtake him by surprise, wrestle him to the floor and pin him down under a table in the restaurant long enough to eat the monsterous salad (say, 1.35 minutes), he said he wasn’t gonna let me so I didn’t even drive to the restaurant.
3) We went to the beach where I watched numerous children eat massive ice cream cones. And every time I shut my eyes to nap I began thinking of food. And that set off an intense craving for cheese and crackers. Where my subconscious went from BBQ salad and ice cream to cheese and crackers, I do not know. Just telling you like it is Bs&Gs.
At one point I asked him seriously if he would stand up and keep me from eating if I tried. He said ‘yes, because afterwards I would be mad that he let me.’ Yeah yeah…
… I waited for him to fall asleep.
Yeppers. Sure did.
I am a failure. A cheat. A loser. A pathetic, will-powerless EATER!
I can’t help that he decided to watch a film, which is a synonym for ‘take a nap,’ and left me to my own defenses. Let me tell you, my cranky irritable self had laid all my defenses to rest.
So as I walked through the kitchen… back and forth as a kid might as he prepped to rob a cookie behind mum’s back… I gave in and cut a sliver of cinnamon bun to satisfy my mouth’s desire.
Well, you can’t eat just a sliver. It’s not even then. So I made it even… but eating the whole damn thing.
I went back upstairs and returned to my cleaning post as if nothing happened.
And in a matter of minutes the pain kicked in: The guilt, the disappointment, the frustration.
Figuring I had blown it, I hopped back down the stairs and noshed on the leftover chinese chicken in the fridge. Oh man it was gooood. Then back upstairs to continue wallowing in let-down.
And in a matter of minutes the pain kicked in: The stomachache.
My stomach had been full when I ate; I had just finished off three cups of lemonade to try to quell the hunger. My new little tight stomach had no room for a cinnamon bun and chicken. Soooo I pulled out the old college trick I used to use to entertain my roommate after a night of binge drinking. And I returned the food…
And as embarrassed as I am to admit this little scenario in public, not to mention on a BLOG accessible by anyone who can work the Google Box, it taught me a lesson. It showed me that I have back-up resistance. Kinda like skydivers have a reserve parachute in case their main fails to open properly. Well, when my will-power fails to persevere… I have guilt. So I can now rest assured that when my tough outer coating gives in to temptation setting me off track for whatever ridiculous, hard-to-acheive goal I am chasing, my guilty conscience will peek its head and scream at the top of its lungs: “LOOOOSER!”
Why thank you very much guilt!
After that little lesson I knew I had to complete this — whether it means anything to me or not. (And here I thought publicizing my endeavor was enough to trick my brain.)
So here I am confessing my slip-up to anyone and everyone who fancies reading this…
What was harder than that was admitting to the boyf that I am failed while he was asleep… I like to think he believes in me to complete the task, so admitting that I made a big “oops” wasn’t easy.
But I did…
And he replied…
“So, what tasted better? The cinnamon roll or the chicken?”