Well, I've been doing pretty good this week until last night. Worked out every day. Been eating extremely well. Had a few hiccups here and there, but they were minor hiccups, nothing a few flex points couldn't cover. I was coasting and feeling really good about things; it was shaping up to be another really good day when I got a knock at the door. This kid was standing on my doorstep with a package for my roommate- on the side of the box it simply said, "Cookie Dough". It was a heavy, white box. All it said was "Cookie Dough". Surely there's a BRAND name on here somewhere...I thought to myself as I examined the box. Was it really cookie dough? Had to be gourmet, since there was no brand name anywhere, right? I mean..is that how gourmet cookie dough appears? All cryptic and ominous? Hmmm....
It sat in the kitchen and I walked by several times. Earlier this week, my roommate told me this hilarious story about a timid high school boy who had knocked on our door. Apparently he was on the local high school football team and was selling stuff to raise funds for his team. She said he was so shy and looked so stressed that she felt bad and actually bought something...could this "Cookie Dough" be what she bought? Well, even if it was, I wasn't going to have any. I did a 5 mile run yesterday and have eaten so good this whole week. I have discipline after all, so don't be confused. Plus I've known all week that I want to weigh in Sat morning so I knew I had to be on point- a little cookie dough wasn't taking me down. Pfft.
And yet it sat on the counter, calling me from the next room. I walked passed that box a few more times. Got some water, you know. Have to stay hydrated. Checked my cupboard for some snacks...wasn't there a small piece of chocolate in here somewhere? Checked the weight of the box. Heavy. Mmm hmm...must be chocolate chip. Sick. I ignored it and went back to the living room. Who opens their roommate's dough? That's messed up, Diz. Stop it. You're not opening the box. Get a grip on yourself.
"There's a package for you in the kitchen" I told her when she finally walked in the door. No "Hello". No, "Welcome home! How was your day? Tell me all about it!" No no, just straight to the point. "There's a package for you in the kitchen."
"Oh?" she huffed as she lugged all of her stuff to her bedroom. She just got home from yoga and had bags of work clothes and work out clothes and purses and shopping bags. I noticed because I was staring at this box on the counter in the kitchen and had to rip my eyes to see what the huff was for. But did I offer to help her? No. I sat in the living room in a chair where I had a clear view into the kitchen. Someone had to keep an eye on it. "Yeah. Says 'Cookie Dough' on the side of the box. Is that what you bought from that kid?"
"Hahaha-yeah! I don't want it, I just felt bad for the kid. I can't believe he brought it over; he's called several times but I haven't called him back because I don't really want it; I just wanted to donate to the football team since he was so stressed out.." More huffing. Ah. You felt bad for him. Cute. Just Precious. Guess who feels bad for the cookie dough, sitting in the kitchen all by itself.
After a few minutes, she meandered into the kitchen and glanced at the box while heading towards the cupboard. She merely glanced at it, practically dismissing it! Who does that? She may not care about it, but I knew that box by now. Knew it from every angle; Knew the font of the "Cookie Dough" on the side. Knew the weight. It was a hefty box, not to underestimated. Now it sat innocently on the counter, acting as though I had never even touched it. It was flirting with her, I could see it from where I sat. Dirty box. She had her hands on her cupboard doors and was searching for something to eat; she coyly peered over at it again. Aww...hahaha...it finally had her attention. Sneaky little box. Like I said, not to be underestimated. She meandered over and opened it. Before she could BLINK I was off the chair and by her side.
"Is it good?" I asked as she took a bite; My mouth watered.
"Mmmm hmmm..." her eyes were closed. "Have some, I can't eat it all." Of course you can't; you need help. And as your roommate, it's my duty...
"Don't mind if I do.." I mutter as I gleefully nabbed a hunk. Gourmet, just like I thought. Huge chunks of chocolate. Heaven.
10 minutes later, I was moaning on her bed while she was picking out an outfit to wear.
"I feel guilty" I muttered. She giggled. So funny. How could she only have one or two bites? Meanwhile, guess who's fast and furious? It's not normal, the way I put that dough down. The guilt spread and the dough reared its ugly head from inside my belly...or maybe that was the sugar, seeping into my bloodstream like poison. You know how it makes you feel after you haven't had it for awhile then you binge on it. It hurts. All I could think was that I destroyed a whole day's (possibly week's) worth of work in less than 10 minutes. Maybe it was the guilt that was hurting my stomach. Evil box.
Needless to say, today has not been much better. She left that stupid thing in the fridge. I think I've had 3 or 4 more hunks of the dough. I HATE that box and it's stupid contents. Everytime I open the fridge, there is "Cookie Dough" staring back at me mockingly. I could just spit. Do I seem to notice the spinach or the tomatoes or the carrot sticks in the fridge too? No. No no, they get no attention whatsoever. Who cares that they are more colorful than bland white? Who cares that they are healthy and lively and don't hurt my stomach? No. The box has staked its claim in my fridge. All other foods are submissive to that dominating box. That box has a superiority complex. It's not right; it's not fair. None of the other foods stand a chance. "I like under dogs!" I screamed at it the last time I opened the fridge to take a peek inside. It just sat there- quietly waiting.
What's worse is that now I'm questioning weigh in tomorrow. I must conquer or die! I have to get back on Saturday weigh-ins since I don't trust myself to get through an entire weekend. Especially with that damn thing in my fridge. I can't throw it out; it's not mine to toss. I think it's growing; somehow it's evolving. I fully expect to open my fridge tomorrow to find something like Sigourney Weaver found in her fridge in Ghostbuster's- remember that? An alien creature that tried to take over the world and was only stopped by the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man. Mmmm....Marshmallows...
Sigh...back to business as usual. New day. Old struggle.