14 pieces of red licorice.
When Keziah and Fisher were here last week we bought a few groceries to make their stay F U N. Fisher picked out a semi-healthy cereal, Kix. He also got frozen juice pops, Sun chips and dip, and licorice.
Last night I found the licorice. I should have sent it with them when they left on Wednesday. But I forgot. So I was looking around for a healthy snack last night while watching the last bit of NCIS and there they were, safely tucked on the side of the wheat pasta closed with a purple plastic clip.
I’ll just take one.
[I check the ‘nutritional’ label on back.] I’ll just take four. A serving size is 4 and it’s 150 calories with 1 g of fat. Not bad, I lie to myself. Total carbs 35 g, sugars 21 g. Not too bad, I continue to lie.
Well if four’s not all that bad, how bad can 14 be? I rationalize. I might as well eat them all and then they’ll be gone. I’ll be rid of them! I won’t have to think about them. I won’t have to dream about them. They’ll be out of the house for good. I justify.
Well, not for good.
Technically they’re still in the house, rumbling around in my intestines. I didn’t sleep well, my stomach hurt. I have gas. I’m constipated. I took a peek in the mirror this morning. They’re hanging below my eyes. The 14 red licorice have transformed into bags and are adhered to my face above my cheeks — all puffy and red and splotchy and ugly. It looks like bad clay. I look like bad clay!
[Forget about hair! I’m having a bad clay day!]
It’s maddening. I’m maddening! [trying to take responsibility here] All day I chose healthy. There was a ton of y.u.k. food at the volleyball conference-duals. Cinnamon rolls, king-size muffins, bagels with gooey toppings, hot chocolate. Sugar everywhere! But I prepared myself well. I had eaten my favorite yogurt-fruit-nuts combination before I left home so I’d feel satisfied in the face of miles of food displays. And I took a banana and pear with me. Later I had a little bit of their scrambled eggs. I felt strong. I felt good. I was smug.
When the kids and I went to Rent-a-Flick I chose the chicken noodle soup while they had a large pizza and disgusting combinations of shakes. [I mean, really, yellow-cake-mix shake? what the #@%# is that?] So I felt really good about the choices I had made all day long.
Just goes to show! I can have a fantastic week. An unfaltering day. I can be committed and full of resolve and feeling unshakable. And then just the sight of a half-package of licorice can be my undoing.
NOW do you understand? I’m no better than a drunk. I’m back up to 150. I do not have a handle on myself. Even after all I’ve done to make myself believe I do. I hate myself. I’m such a loser.