Today was day number five bazillion on my diet, according to the devil in my head.
If you've ever attempted to lose a few pounds, you understand where I'm at today. It's not a happy place because it can lead to a feeding frenzy that would put a pod of sharks to shame; sharks that just discovered a boat dumping a fifty ton bucket of chum in the water.
Yes, it would look like that, complete with gnashing of teeth, indiscriminate chowing down, and, in the end, nothing edible (or inedible) left standing. But, the blood would be replaced with carbs loaded with sugar, baked in delicious treats of all variety.
Considering where my head was, I managed to get out of the day pretty well unscathed. I fell off my "sugar on Sundays" wagon by finally eating the six Brach's candies that were in the leftover Easter candy bag. I came precariously close to downing too many chips, ordering onion rings and french fries, and driving to the store and buying the gallon of ice cream I found myself craving like crazy for about twenty minutes.
Amazingly I move into Tuesday, the day before I weigh in and the one day of the week I have scheduled for the gym, only eleven points down in my weekly count. Not great, in fact the worst I've come into a Tuesday since I started this endeavor, but certainly not tanked.
Tanked would have been downing that gallon of Blue Bell. Or baking a cake but eating all the batter before I could bake it. Or eating raw sugar out of the bag.
When I think of it that way? I feel so much better about my willpower on a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, day.