As noted in my previous post my lovely boyfriend bought me two boxes of chocolate AND two fancy candy bars for Christmas. Yesterday I told him, “I’m actually kind of excited about your chocolate gift. It’ll teach me self control.” I went on to detail all of my good intentions about having just one or maybe two pieces a day. Tonight I lay in bed with two nearly empty chocolates boxes. I am going to need a bigger bed from all these calories and regrets.
But, earlier this evening I was reminiscing with my mother about my grandmother. And she told me, “Remember those bricks of Land O Lakes cheese? I bought one of those for your grandma once because I knew she thought it would be too expensive to get. You were there when she opened it and you came tearing into the room and nearly yanked the box out of her hand. You couldn’t even talk yet. You were yelling, ‘Geema chee! CHEE! CHEEEEEEE!’ And you didn’t quit until she gave you a few slices.” Clearly, I have never had any self control when it comes to cheese because when she was telling me this story I was shaving off and devouring a brick of Romano.
When I first told a few people I know about me doing the 65 pounds at a pound per week weight loss plan I heard that I need to have “portion control.” Given my history and present behavior I wonder if it’s more that I need self control well that and “Geema” should’ve withheld the cheese. This next week I plan to have as much self control as possible. My plan is to look at everything as a choice instead of if there is chocolate or cheese it is a must that it land in my mouth. I am just afraid I will keep choosing to eat them…
In other news, when I asked my mother what she thought I should do to lose weight she said, “Give up sweets for a solid week so your body can detox.” Then I suggested she do it with me (in my mind I actually said, “Oh yeah? Let’s see if you can eat your words, you friggin cookie monster! And animal crackers don’t count as crackers or meat!” She replied, “I’ll do that.”
“We can start the second week of January,” she said. I looked all around her kitchen at the bag of Milanos, the homed cranberry white chocolate chips, the butterscotch haystacks, the tiny Snickers and Yorks and of course the half-eaten bag of animal crackers.
“Why then? So we can eat up this crap?”
“Yep,” she replied. “Stuff yourself!”
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