Deliver Us From Evil

a light breakfast (pancakes with fruit, whipped cream, walnuts and honey; bacon)

We are in trouble.

My body must be hyper-sensitive to being cold, and therefore feels the need to guard against the chill with extra layers of fat.  Naturally, this means that – as soon as the weather turns cold – I start eating.  And I don’t mean just eating: I mean eating.


It wouldn’t be so bad if I was actually hungry.  But I’m not.  I’m just eating.  Today, for instance, I started with a tablespoon of peanut butter, because I didn’t want to eat too much before my Bootcamp class.  Then I got scared that I’d feel too weak during class, so I followed the peanut butter with a bowl of homemade granola in coconut milk.  (I then proceeded to cramp up in the midst of Bootcamp.)

Upon returning home at 11, I reminded myself that I had eaten poorly yesterday, but that there was time to redeem myself today before the damage set in.  So I ate the only chocolate chip cookie I’d missed yesterday.  Oh, and just some chocolate chips that were floating around. 

Then I was good, and made myself a tomato, pesto, and mozzarella sandwich on whole wheat bread.  Then followed that with two (or was it three?) cookies (because the chocolate chips may be gone, but I still have zucchini cookies, cereal bars, buttermilk cookies, and chocolate pinwheels).  Then, did I eat the lone orange languishing in plain sight on our kitchen table?  Nope; I instead chose to dig through our pantry until I came upon a bag of butterscotch chips I don’t remember buying.

For dinner, Bee made chicken and potatoes, and I tried out a buttermilk biscuit recipe.  And It Was Awesome.

Which is great, except that now we’ll be wanting buttermilk biscuits with every meal.  May I point out that I was actually pretty good this time around, only eating three tiny biscuits?  But then I snuck in a few more cookies when the boys weren’t watching.

We had popcorn a few hours later while watching a movie.  And then – the low point – I had an urge for more pesto.  At 9:40 p.m.  Usually I refuse to eat past 9 p.m., but I somehow managed to justify a bowl of pesto to myself.  You should have seen the look of horror on Bee’s face when he realized I really was going to boil noodles, defrost pesto, and scrape Parmesean at this hour of the night.  But – hey! – at least it wasn’t sugar!

Then I snuck into my room and downed 4 mini Reese’s peanut butter cups.

I kind of don’t even feel guilty, which is what’s worrying me the most.  In a few days, when I’ve gained five pounds and my jeans are uncomfortable, I will – of course – be filled with self loathing.  But I’d like to feel a little guilt now; perhaps it would keep me from spinning completely out of control.

I may not feel guilty, but I am pretty irritated with myself.  I mean, it would be one thing if I actually wanted that (those) cookie(s).  Oddly-enough, I’ve been craving more of the savory items than the sweet items lately.  Probably because I pushed so hard all summer to process food from the farm that now I just want to enjoy it.  Still, I end up eating the sweet items anyway.  Am I bored?  Do I feel justified?  Seriously; what’s my problem?!

And now I’m getting scared.  I’m getting scared because Mr. C and I are off to visit my parents for a week.  And I refuse to watch what I eat there; it’s practically sacrilegious to go home and not eat comfort food.  (Not to mention the fact that my mom is almost as big of a sugar-pusher as I am.)  Then, as soon as I return from that trip, Bee is leaving for a week.  You know what that means:

Did Kraft ever win the Nobel Prize?  Because they should have.


Bee will not have seen me for two weeks.  Upon his return, I wonder if he’ll be mildly surprised by his wife’s extra chins and copious amounts of back fat.

Back fat.  Mmmmm . . . babyback ribs.