(no subject)
I fail at dieting. I started out well, and with the best of intentions. I cleansed my apartment of delicious fatty foods, bought some carrot sticks and calorie-free flavored water and resolved to stick to my calorie-cutting plan. So why, less than a week later, did I find myself on the couch stuffing my face with caramel popcorn? It could be that I am weak and spineless, unable to bind even my stomach to my will. Or it could be the weather. It's starting to get cold and fallish around here, and the change in the weather has gently turned my fancy to thoughts of pumpkin bread and pie. It makes me want to bake things, though I know this would be a fatal blow to my Halloween plans. For not only are my favorite pastry concotions absolutely loaded with sugar and butter and eggs and cream, I don't have anyone convenient to help me eat them. And even if I were to do that thing where you put in applesauce instead of the fat, two dozen applesauce muffins lying on my kitchen counter would sabotage my diet every bit as effectively as two dozen normal ones. It's tragic. My desire for scrumptious baked goods has even permeated my subconscious; I had a dream the other night that I graduated from SAIS and took my hard-earned international relations degree to go work at a bakery in Austin. Is it any wonder I fell off the wagon? I have ten more days to pull myself together so I can get myself in that dress, even if it takes a shoehorn to do the job.