After a day off from blogging, I'm not feeling particularly inspired to write cleverly today. Still plugging along with my eating plan. Making better choices with my eating. Maneuvering successfully through the minefields of restaurant meals, and even a dessert buffet at my end of the year gathering for my English as a Second Language students.
But today I bought a package of Godiva caramel crunch bars, my kryptonite! They are little chocolate bars filled with chewy caramel and sea salt sprinkled liberally on top. I am pretty sure they were manufactured by little magical elves who are bent on keeping me heavy and hooked on their version of crack for the middle aged woman. One bite and I'm down for the count. So I haven't had that bite yet. It is on the shelf just out of my reach, but not out of my mind. The thought of it has danced entrancingly around my mind like a cartoon bubble cloud. I know I shall eat it. I must, I must!
Ok. So I plan to eat it. And I will eat it. It shall be mine and shall come to nestle safely in my tummy, all warm and happy. It is simply no good to anyone on a shelf, just taunting you like that. So I will teach it a lesson and consume it and then I will win. Er. Well, sort of. No, not really, but why does it seem like a victory as I contemplate having it for my very own precious?
Do I need to be one of those people that don't keep certain foods in their house? Or should I remain of the opposite camp of far kinder and gentler folk who believe in keeping stashes all over their house in case of emergency. (You know, a craving emergency.)
Hmm. I've always kept my stashes. For me it is worse to want something and not have it near and then wind up eating something that only whets the appetite for the craving but still leaves you longing for the thing you were dreaming about.
I don't know. It's something to think about, I guess. But for now I plan to enjoy that little morsel, and just write down the calories in my little app and keep on rolling.
Cue the ominous music.
