It's not you, it's me.
Wednesday morning and I have one thought and one thought only: Cinnabon with carmel and pecans.
I've been thinking about the fat round rollies since lunch, yesterday. I had a salad for lunch, right? That's healthy, right? Shit. I had rice and greens for dinner two nights in a row. I mean, that should even out the indescribable damage a cinnabon would do to my GI track, right? RIGHT?!?
This, is a perfect example of why I can't quit eating meat. I want the things that I do not have. It doesn't matter what they are - I want them. And I don't give a good goddamn about the consequences. Not the "oh it'll go straight to my hips" consequences (if I cared about that, I would stop smothering my pierogis in butter). No, I'm talking about how horrifyingly ill something that big and loaded with sugar is going to make me.
Honestly, downing a can of Mountain Dew is like drinking acid. But my brain cannot make the connection. If it tastes good, I can't bring myself to refrain - no matter what happens later. I believe this behavior is the text book definition of stupidity.
Even meat. Beautiful, delicious, red meat. I feel like crap after I eat it. Fried chicken. Crispy, crunchy, tender and greasy. Who could say no to that? A person with restraint, that's who.
I try to remind myself that I am a moderate. I eat a nice bit o chocolate after every mostly-healthy meal. I nom a small bag of chips as opposed to a big one. And a can of carbonated battery acid every couple of weeks isn't going to kill me. My life is not bereft of sugar. But I'll be feeling that cinnabon for days and I have a very busy week ahead of me. The cinnabon doesn't need to be devoured like a helpless bunny right now. It will be there to give me indigestion next week. It isn't calling to me, per say, it's my brain that's calling to it ...
... sorry, drooling on myself.
