Right now I am reaping the
benefits consequences of my falling off the wagon into Junkaholism this weekend. It was sooo good, and now I feel sooo bad. I had my first soda in over a month. I still love them, sadly, but I will go back to being soda-free.
This weekend, we went to stay with my parents in New Braunfels. I would compare our house to a (certainly imperfect) rehab center - safe from (most) temptations. Then I would compare visiting my parent's house to walking fresh out of food rehab and into a convenience store: dishes of tempting chocolate on the bar, cold Dr. Pepper and beer in the downstairs fridge, fresh baked gingerbread coming out of the oven, and chips, cookies, and cereals in the pantry. As if this weren't challenging enough for my (absentee) will power, I always seem to arrive ravenous like I ran a marathon while hoisting a boulder 3 times my size over my head. Maybe it's the 45 minute drive, I haven't a clue. I know this much: I am not ready to leave food rehab yet. I need at least another 28 days, or whatever the magical number was that worked for Sandra Bullock in that movie.
My mother would kill me if I didn't insert here that my parent's house is not actually filled with junk food, and that for the average American they really do eat quite healthily. But she does keep treats in the house, and I am not to be trusted. I have the nose of a bloodhound, trained to find high fructose corn syrup - and much like Mr Dog immediately bounds into my parent's bedroom to sniff out and eat the (used) ear plugs (you think I'm kidding), my first move upon arrival is to check the candy drawer. Also worth mentioning, my parents keep us supplied with a lot of really good things: fresh farm eggs, homemade leftovers, extra grilled meat, and toilet paper. If you're an adult with bills, you know how nice it is when people give you free toilet paper. I'm not kidding.
I have learned that I just cannot buy things that tempt me anymore. I consume them at a rate that defies the speed of light. Take, for example, the box of oreos that disappeared in 24 hours, or the bag of potato chips that - between the two of us - disappeared during Downton Abbey. It is impossible to keep a treat around for "rewards" or "rare occasions." All occasions call for treats in my book, and I end up constantly rewarding myself. What can I say? I am well-behaved. EXCEPT when it comes to eating crap. So these consequences have included a tummy ache, head ache, extra lethargy, and general discomfort and irritation. Tomorrow we are back to eating out of the fridge and not out of a box. My junk-food rendezvous is no longer a secret, and we are breaking up... again.