Yesterday I made the sound and OBVIOUSLY rational judgment call that I was going to enjoy myself eating whatever I wanted for the last few days of 09. This included (but by no means is limited to) :
One piping hot order of funnel cake sticks from Burger King
One mac and cheese bread bowl pasta from Domino's with onions and bacon
At least 3 milk chocolate and pecan Turtles
Swedish fish. Lots and lots of Swedish fish. (they are little red gummy candies, in case you think I was eating real fish. NO WAY. Yuck.)
And shamefully, I must say that that was all before 2pm in the afternoon.
For some reason, I felt like celebrating in my own "fast foodie" kinda way. I can't sit here and write to you with total remorse about it yesterday, because it tasted wonderful. Hitting all that grease and goodness before the new year flips over on us was pretty awesome!
That is, until my quaint and somewhat predictable neurosis got the better of me. Oh, yes, all that artery cloggin' cuisine was thrown back in my face this morning as I nervously stepped up on my faithful scale.
I was praying the entire time....
"Please, God, not 175. ANYTHING less than 175. Please!!! I will become a nun if you will just help me out! I promise!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
What was hard is the scale is digital, and that means it needs time to think as I am standing there on top of it, buck naked, thirsty as all get out, waiting patiently or not so patiently as it were, for my answer. And in retrospect, I maybe have been known to kick the scale from time to time. So I can't blame its hesitation to be truthful. I think God intervened this morning and had a conversation with my scale. I imagine this is pretty much how it went down.
Scale: "Oh, crap. She's back! She said she wasn't gonna be here for another 2 days!"
God: "Well, then let's get on with it. Tell her."
Scale: "Uh-uh. NOT IT. I'm not gonna say squat. She thunks me around if I don't tell her good news. And this is not good news."
God: "I don't know about that. I think she understands the consequences to her food choices lately. I'm pretty sure she is willing to take responsibility for her own actions."
Scale: "Like heck she is! Haven't you seen her melt downs? Her nuclear sized disappointments? The way she looks at me like I betrayed her if I tell her the truth? I think the best thing here is to lie."
God (heaving a big heavy sigh): "Fine. I am going to lift her up just a little bit so she's lighter than she should be. But not much. Then you won't get kicked, and she won't be totally discouraged. Deal?"
Scale: "Deal! Thanks God! She's got one heck of a quarterback kick..."
And the consensus was??? 173 point something. I didn't really pay attention. I was just relieved that it wasn't 175.
I know, I know. This means I have undone all the hard work I did over the past 2 weeks. Right?
Well, sort of right. But kind of wrong too.
See, I know that over the next 2 months (and possibly even longer) I will be on fire. I will be working out almost every day, eating right, writing uplifting and inspiring messages (hopefully inspiring) to you readers, and in general- behaving. And that takes a huge amount of effort on my part. You have no idea how hard that is for me.
In my mind, I am indulging in the dieters last supper. It's one of those freakish phenomenons that we all do to ourselves. We say we are starting a diet on whatever day. In this case, for most of us, it's on Friday, the 1st. Or maybe some of you are waiting till Monday the 4th. Mondays are a good day to start dieting. But we all have this feast or famine mentality when it comes to dieting. We don't look at how good an apple will taste to us. We look longingly at the drenched in butter bread sticks and swoon over those. Or that piping hot box of fries. Or this way to good to be true skin on the fried chicken.
You get the point.
And I am of the firm belief that this last supper is essential to our success. Do we make the first days of our diet a bit more challenging because we had the lack of sense to gain weight right before we start trying to lose it? Oh, you betcha. But does it satisfy some weird internal drive within us and give us closure on the drive thru window for the next 2 months?
Yes, it surely does.
So plan it and do it right. Give yourself that last supper you really want. Steak and shrimp? OK! Cheesecake and fried mushrooms? Go for it. Every single 100 calorie pack in the box? Have at, my friend. Have at.
We have 2 more days until the real work begins. And I, for one, am not going to miss out on my last supper. Well, maybe it's more like I'm on a cruise ship with endless amounts of food at my disposal. I know that Thursday night at midnight we are coming into port, and it will all be over. So I'm making one more stop at the chocolate fountain before the good life comes to an end.
38 hours of freedom left and counting....