Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

• Day 54: Magical Thinking, the Donate Button and the Boston Red Sox

  Date: 2010.04.21 | Category: Uncategorized | Response: 2

  

  So yesterday I put a DONATE button on this blog.  It’s a common widget on a lot of blogs. It  basically says, hey nobody is paying me to write this content so can you give me something to offset my costs?

  To someone who has been financially independent since the age of 21 and never relied on anyone for money, the DONATE button on blogs seemed pathetic and desperate. I mean, why write a blog if you have to beg for money?

  Then yesterday, out of the blue, it seemed like a good idea.  Am I desperate for money? No?  But do I get paid for writing this blog? No.

  I have Google AdSense ads on my blog to monetize it the way a lot of bloggers do. However, you need a TON of pageviews per day to make anything more than enough money to go to McDonald’s once a month.

  So I put a DONATE button on the blog.  Then it occurred to me:  Who’s to say someone, a secret admirer of the blog, would make a huge donation.  Hopefully anonymously. Just because he or she could. Just for the hell of it.

  How fun would that be to get a big fat donation courtesy of PayPal?

  See, that’s my magical thinking at work.  People have mocked my magical thinking before -- most notably in 2004 when my hometown team, the Boston Red Sox, won the World Series for the first time in 86 years.

  Curse of the Bambino?  What curse?  We were just pacing ourselves!

  The American League Championship series that year was enough of  a nail-biter. The Sox lost the first three games against the Yankees. At that specific point, it looked totally hopeless. The Bosox had choked again.

  However, I had this strange feeling.  It was so bad, the Sox losing the first three games of the ALCS, it looked as if they’d lose fast and limp away -- the World Series win yet again an impossible dream.

  But because it was so hopeless, my instinct was this was the very thing the Sox needed: to be nailed to the wall with all odds against them.  I don’t know about you but that’s the kind of stress and pressure I enjoy.  It brings out the best in me.  I think it’s an Irish quality -- and you know Boston is a Irish town.

  So I told my friend Gale the Dodger fan in LA, “You know I think the Sox are going to win this and then they’re going to go on to the World Series and win that.”

  Her scorn was palpable, even over the telephone.

  “That’s your magical thinking again,” she said.

  P.S.  The Sox came from behind in the ninth inning of Game 4 of the playoffs and played an incredible 14 innings before winning the pennant and going to the World Series.

  I could barely sleep at night it was so exciting. I even drafted all my California friends into being Red Sox fans -- at least in 2004.

  P.P.S.  Then the Red Sox won the World Series in four straight innings, knocking off the Cardinals in a 1-2-3-4 punch.

  Gale called seconds after the Red Sox won the World Series for the first time in 1986. She called me “The Oracle” this time and said she was bowing down to the phone.

  I believe in magical thinking.

  I think someone will donate $100,000 to this blog. Why not? Life is a crazy adventure.

  Never give up.  Or so Winston Churchill told us.

  Go Red Sox.  I love you.

• Day 53: My Most Embarrassing Sugar Addict Moment Involved Whipped Cream

  Date: 2010.04.21 | Category: Uncategorized | Response: 0

  

  No, stop, it’s not what you think – unfortunately. I haven’t had many embarrassing moments involving candy or desserts – maybe because I don’t hide my vice. I’ve always eaten candy right out in the open, no secret binging for me.

  I do remember once when I was living in New York and someone noticed two empty boxes of Haviland thin chocolate peppermints sticking out of my trash.  But that’s so boring it would get me kicked out of Overeaters Anonymous for even telling such a yawn story.

  But one time qualifies as embarrassing:

  One of my favorite cheap sugar fixes is whipped cream.  The kind of plain whipped cream that comes in an aerosol can and you can buy in any supermarket in the U.S. or Europe. Normally I put some in a bowl.  However, one time an entire can somehow migrated into my bed – when I was alone.

  I apparently forgot about it until one day when a platonic male friend (could this get any more boring?) was at my place and decided to take a quick nap on my bed.  What did he find?  You guessed it – a can of whipped cream stuck down somewhere in the sheets.  He only mocked me for about an hour or so and then forgot about it. Lucky for me he was also a bit of a sugar addict himself and couldn’t ridicule me too much.

  I recovered this memory when reading an email from Meg Bozman, honorary U.S.-based correspondent for A Year Without Candy.  Meg’s a member of the Wednesday night kick-sugar tele-coaching seminar led by Connie Bennett of SugarShock.com.

  Most people might find eating plain whipped cream odd.  Not sweetfreaks.  Here’s Meg’s email to everyone in Connie’s group, reprinted with her permission, about her love for whipped cream, which morphs into her take on what it’s like to drastically reduce the amount of sugar she’s eating.

  Meg’s rather cool goal is to be able to eat sweets just once or twice a month and she’s succeeding so far:

  

  Hey everyone,

  Whipped cream is another of my favs. Love love LOVE IT! Cool whip is good, but I prefer the redi-whip stuff  – airy & fluffy & sweet. OK, sorry, I’ll refrain from further description.

  We were in a rush Saturday to hit the road for our 3 hour trek to my Mother-in-Law’s place & stopped for a late lunch of fast food. Since we were rushing, I ran in to grab the food while my hubby got some gas. I got the drinks first & DH got a milkshake. They add HEAPS of whipped cream to the top & a cherry. He’s not that wild about maraschino cherries & often lets me have them along with several spoonfuls of the cream. There was a bunch actually sticking out from the top of the little domed plastic lid. I almost instinctually went to lick the protruding portion, but I stopped myself.

  I stood there holding this drink, waiting for our chicken sandwiches & thinking how crazy it was for me to not have any. Uncharacteristic! This isn’t Meg!

  But then I realized, resisting wasn’t that bad. It was just a brief, habitual urge to lick the whipped cream, but after resisting that urge, it just seemed like life… it was just the way it is to not have any. The same way I wouldn’t lick the whipped cream off the milkshake of the person standing next to me! The same way I don’t eat bacon (don’t like it) etc. I just don’t eat it.

  I’m at 3 weeks as of tomorrow with no dessert. I think I’ll wait until the weekend, then have one sweet treat the 2^nd weekend of every month. (Away from the office & the temptations of office candy & when I can go enjoy something with my family.)

  
  I’m very interested to see how this evolves & if I’m able to ‘keep the lion controlled’ in this “once a month cage.”  But I feel like I have to try it. I don’t want to say, “I’m never EVER having it again until the day I die.” Maybe I’ll find once every 3-4 months is better, I don’t know. But that’s my goal for now & I feel pretty good about it. I feel like I NEED to try it out.

  & certainly this weekend I will be watching myself like a science experiment to see how I feel after having something.

  In other news, 3 weeks off desserts & I’ve nearly lost a dress size! I got my period yesterday & it actually took me by surprise – no moody PMS like last month! (Last month, I was so weepy & emotional, I hadn’t felt that way since I was a teenager!)

  I also feel like I’m EVEN more aware of eating healthy than I was before. I miscalculated & we had to stop on our journey for snacks for my son (I continue to be astounded at how much he eats!) I had nuts in the car, but he didn’t want any, so I stopped & grabbed a yogurt & felt guilty feeding him the high-fructose-corn-syrup laden crap. (he isn’t wild about fresh fruit, unless pureed, so I didn’t even buy the melon slices or an apple.)

  -Meg

• Day 53: Selina Gave Up Candy For a Year at 16!

  Date: 2010.04.21 | Category: Uncategorized | Response: 0

  

  Budding journalist Selina MacLaren (today, left) was a 16-year-old student at West Valley Christian School near LA when she wrote about her Year Without Candy. Now she’s a 2o-year-old political economy and English major at UC Berkeley and reporter for the Daily Cal.  See how she coped with her Year Without Candy. I think Selina is a great writer. She is considering journalism as a career, although it’s a tough profession to enter these days, with print media on its last legs.  If anyone wants to hire Selina for a reporting job or writing project, you can email her at: smaclaren@dailycal.org.

  

  Article reprinted from LA Youth, a newspaper “by and about teens.”

  By Selina MacLaren

  On New Year’s Eve 2004, I decided that I would make the ultimate resolution—no candy for one year. There is always candy in my house, and my mother, blessed with a good metabolism, considers candy an essential food group. I wanted to avoid this addiction, so I kissed good-bye to Reese’s Pieces, lollipops, Hershey’s Kisses and Jelly Bellies.

  Giving up my indulgent habit was the price I decided to pay for the sake of a healthier lifestyle that could improve my mood (after the sugar withdrawal, you have more energy and fewer mood swings), running skills for cross country, self-discipline, and eventually, long-term health.

  One of the most tempting experiences I had was immediately following New Year’s, when I was staying with relatives in Denmark. People in that country are notorious for having a sweet tooth, and it was an extreme test of my discipline to turn down the mounds of marzipan, chocolate and licorice candies offered each day.

  Usually, the Danish cookies were enough to satisfy my cravings since I still allowed myself to have cookies, cake and ice cream. But sometimes candy was the only dessert offered, and I would sip my water and desperately try not to look.

  Temptation was everywhere.

  I struggled to stay up all night at sleepovers, surrounded by Reese’s wrappers and Red Vines, but forced to eat fruit, which definitely does not offer the sugar high that the candy gave my friends.

  My family went to the Jelly Belly factory when the company had just created its new M&M-like candies, and the overwhelming scent of chocolate on the tour made it agonizing to refuse the free samples they handed out.

  My family had to get used to the fact that chocolate wasn’t a present or souvenir for me, and in their flexible tolerance of my decision, they felt obligated to buy me unique presents. They usually decided upon tea, and consequently, fed my newly acquired tea addiction.

  The strict and enduring resolution was the subject of many conversations among my friends. All summer, my friends debated whether chocolate-covered strawberries qualified as fruit or candy, only to draw more people into the debate and never reach a conclusion.

  And for some reason, friends found it amusing to try to seduce me by annoyingly waving candy in front of my face, occasionally jabbing it between my tightly sealed lips.

  At first, I had to fight the temptations by substituting candy with soda or ice cream. But after five months, I lost my cravings for candy and stopped viewing it as food at all. After eleven months, I forgot what certain candy, such as candy canes and white chocolate, tasted like.

  Candy was inedible in my mind—artificially flavored, with unnatural textures and colors made in factories. Of course, much of the food we eat today is “factory-made” rather than nature’s true child, but candy even more so. After months of watching the bowl of sweets pass me by, those sweets became like plastic in my mind.

  During Easter, my sister gladly took my candy, and I avoided trick-or-treating during Halloween. But as soon as I thought I had overcome my cravings, Christmas season came and candy was everywhere. When my school sold fudge in the cafeteria, I watched with adoring eyes as my friends licked the soft, sticky brown sweetness from their fingers.

  Teachers handed out candy canes, and I would politely say no over and over until I was tired of the puzzled reactions and took the candy to give to a friend. The biggest obstacle was no longer my craving, but the pressure from other people and the constant explanations I had to give.

  New Year’s came—success! Ten minutes after midnight, I held a green M&M in my hands and stared at it with anticipation. A crowd gathered around me, wanting to see my reaction to my first bite of candy in a year.

  At first I wasn’t sure how to eat the M&M—was I supposed to chew it and get that chalky chocolate feeling between my teeth or suck it into disintegration?

  The taste was familiar and brought back memories of the careless handfuls of M&Ms I used to eat. But not wanting to gorge right away, that M&M was the only candy I ate that night. Since then I’ve only eaten candy on Fridays (to make sure I don’t become addicted again).

  I’m proud of my willpower.

  Not eating candy didn’t make me a better runner, help me lose weight, or improve my mood like I had hoped it would, probably because I was still eating other sweets. However, I now have more confidence in my self-discipline and I know that I can fix my bad habits if I really dedicate myself. And apparently I’ve also affected others—two of my friends are trying the candy boycott this year.

  Many people were amazed that I did it—or that I even wanted to try. Of the many motives I had, honestly the main reason was that I wanted a really tough resolution. I am a resolution addict.

  Since my childhood, I’ve filled notebooks with lists of “Habits to Break” and “Habits to Make,” seeking eternal improvement. I believe that everyone has this drive within them—babies want to speak and walk, children grapple with reading and writing, adults rejoice over a raise at work or lost pounds—and we continuously want more of ourselves.

  Resolutions teach people how to remember their goals, focus on them, and work toward them. Not only do they change your perspective and give you a sense of achievement, but they also teach you to forgive yourself for the goals you could not meet (example: the 15 times I’ve stopped biting my nails for a few weeks, only to resume during a stressful test).

  New Year’s is by far my favorite holiday for all the obvious reasons—a time to start anew, appreciate the last year, leave behind regrets and, of course, the parties. But most of all, I am delighted that the entire Earth can join in the human desire to be better.

  New Year’s is a time to forgive oneself, test oneself, and ultimately, experience eye-opening lessons. This year, I have a new challenge: I’ve given up chips and French fries. I don’t even have cravings for that salty crunch … yet.

• Day 52: Should I Plan to Fall Off the Wagon?

  Date: 2010.04.20 | Category: Uncategorized | Response: 3

  Some experts in the field of addiction don’t recommend quitting cold turkey, which is what I did when I gave up candy and desserts on Feb. 28, 2010. They recommend tapering off slowly instead.

  Still others say it’s OK to relapse now and then – meaning don’t feel all is lost, you can start again.

  I even know someone who calls relapsing “field research,” meaning you find out how bad you feel when you go back to your favorite substance – thereby ensuring theoretically that you go back on the wagon.

  Since I am reporting about going off sweets, I began thinking today – what if I planned to fall off the wagon on a set date, at the exact halfway point of my Year Without Candy?

  What if I ate some of my favorite treats on that day, which would be Saturday, Aug. 28, 2010.  Then the next day I would go right back to my candy and dessert-free regime and write about how my mind and body felt after being filled up with sugar again.

  There’s an upside and downside to this.

  Upside:  I can eat stuff I love for one day! Legally, without lying on this blog. And of course, all in the name of research.

  Downside:  It won’t truly be A Year Without Candy.  It’ll be a Year Minus a Day Without Candy.  Plus the way I work is often all or nothing, black and white. I often get momentum and motivation from extreme situations.  Also, what if I couldn’t get back on the wagon?

  Mitigating factor: Who the hell cares?  Most of us will be dead within 50 or 60 years.  Could all our little goals, plans, petty complaints, laughable aspirations, earnest analysis, faithful blogging – be any more inconsequential?  I think not.

  I have a few months to consider whether to deliberately fall off the wagon – and what candies and desserts I will eat that day.   I am not a binger – and sweets get sweet fast – so I must be judicious in my planning.

  The Relapse Menu so far:

  Breakfast:  One or two freshly-baked Nestle’s Toll House cookies.  NO NUTS!  Why do people wreck the purity of this perfect food with walnuts and their ilk?

  

  Lunch:  Two fudge selections – to be mailed to me in time for Aug. 28 from Swiss Maid Fudge in Wisconsin.  I hereby choose the peanut butter and chocolate fudge and the creme de menthe and chocolate fudge (also known as Irish fudge.)

  

  High tea:  Half the quantity of a box of Haviland thin chocolate peppermints from Rite-Aid in New York City.  Cost of the box?  $.99.  Will also need to have them shipped to me if I am not in New York.

  

  Dinner:   A bowl of Haagen Dazs vanilla ice cream with a dollop of Nutella (there’s even a page for this killer combo on Facebook!)

  

  Midnight snack: Gail’s buttered popcorn with embedded chocolate and butterscotch chips.  (Photo currently unavailable.)

  There you have it.  I feel plumper and sated already.

  Ready for a sugar-crash nap – if I could only see the shore.

  Ta,

  

• Day 47: Memories of Lemon Meringue Pie

  Date: 2010.04.15 | Category: Uncategorized | Response: 1

  Even though I am on Day 47 without candy or sweets of ANY KIND, I realize more and more my ambivalence about my addiction.  Reminds me of a friend who’s in his third month off alcohol with the help of AA , but is not convinced that giving up drinking is for him.

  Luckily, my vice is a bit more benign.  Maybe I’ll change my tune but I don’t see myself ever becoming a candy-hater and virulent anti-sweets crusader.

  So don’t be surprised when you see posts about sweet things here – because, like a boyfriend you had to dump because you know he wasn’t good for you – I still have a very soft spot in my heart for them.  (I like all my ex-boyfriends and still keep in touch with all of them except one, Mr. Freeze.)

  I guess it’s part of keeping candy and desserts in my life while not actually eating them.

  Desserts hold such good memories, one of which was triggered today by reading my Berkeley, Calif. friend Michelle Locke’s delicious blog, Vinecdote, about food and wine.

  Below is Michelle with 95-year-old Peter Mondavi at the Charles Krug winery run by his family in Napa Valley, Calif.

  

  Today Michelle has a post about making lemon meringue pie from the lemons in her backyard.

  My mother made the best lemon meringue pie in the world and just thinking of eating her pie fresh out of the oven makes me so happy.

  Michelle’s a wine writer and photographer for the Associated Press, among other places, and knows her way around the Northern California vineyards. The two photos in this post were taken by her.

  Often times, however, she doesn’t need to go any farther than her lemon tree-studded Berkeley backyard when it comes to whipping up something sweet.

  

  From today’s Vinecdote:

  When life gives you lemon trees you’re pretty much obligated to make lemon meringue pie. It’s like a sacred citrus trust.

  First, of course, you have to care for, prune and harvest the trees. Which is reason No. 415 why Farmville.com is better than real life. On my virtual farm, I point and click to harvest. In real life, I have to get out into the chilly spring air with various sharp implements and hack away at gnarled branches while bits of nature fall down my shirt and wedge themselves into uncomfortable places. Other yards in my neighborhood boast beautiful, round trees aglow with little balls of orange and yellow. My trees are, well, let’s say wildly organic. I did finally prune the lemon tree after realizing it was headed for a power line. That didn’t seem right. My Meyer lemon tree shrub is equally rambling and I fully intend to do something about that.

  But not today.

  Hazards of husbandry notwithstanding, you do eventually net a clutch of lemons, which leads to Step 2: mixing them with enough sugar and starch to actually taste good.

  Continue reading Vinecdote’s great lemon meringue pie recipe here and see below finished product:

  

• Day 47: I’m Making Andi Want Sweets!

  Date: 2010.04.15 | Category: Uncategorized | Response: 1

  

  My friend Andrea Ipaktchi knows from temptation as she’s lived in Paris for more than 20 years where there is every great foodstuff and sweetstuff on the planet.

  She’s normally not a sweethead but told me yesterday that because of this blog, she’s thinking about candy even more and sometimes having some. Oops.

  Andi is also my favorite illustrator – or illustratrice as she calls herself professionally.

  Her “sketchblog” is called April in Paris. Her designs are pretty, whimsical, funny and wise – just like her.

  Andi is the classic American in Paris. She’s not one to get too impressed and/or intimidated by the French – which is where we bond.

  One of her specialties is family portraits – to hang or even just for a Christmas card. You don’t even have to go to Paris. She can draw off a photograph.

  But I like her drawings of French pastries best. Click below to enlarge and enjoy!

  

• Day 46: Loving Vladimir – Not the Impaler!

  Date: 2010.04.14 | Category: Uncategorized | Response: 0

  

  Those ahead of the curve know that nobody uses American or central European techies to help with their blogs and websites anymore. The truly cool outsource to geniuses in eastern Europe and I am no exception.

  A friend of mine has a whole fleet of super-brains in Hungary.

  I prefer Belgrade.

  I stumbled across the stupendous Vladimir Prelovac, high WordPress Wizard and SEO superstar when searching for new plug-ins for this blog.

  I also needed to fix/improve this blog’s comments section since many people told me they couldn’t figure out how to make comments when I switched blog themes a few weeks ago.

  I can easily spend several hours tearing my hair out while trying to make new plug-ins work or figure out how to embed video in a certain way.

  Vladimir fixed my comments section in about 30 seconds.

  Of course, it was like asking Steve Jobs if he had a few seconds to help me create a new playlist in my iTunes folder.

  Vladimir usually takes on bigger jobs but great to know that people like him exist out there for people like me.

  His motto?

  “I would love to change the world, I just don’t have the source code yet.”

  Incredible! That’s my secret slogan too!

  Ta,
  

• Day 45: The French Dentist: Is it Safe?

  Date: 2010.04.13 | Category: Uncategorized | Response: 1

  Today began poorly, with my first-ever visit to a French dentist.  It ended on an equally dreary note, when I had to overnight my tax returns to the U.S. in time for the Thursday deadline

  A day when I came thisclose to buying my favorite Haribo Polka candies at the Maxi Bazar near the train station where they were also selling half-priced Easter candy, the very sight of which made me feel faint.

  But I digress. Back to this morning. I do everything here  in French and I have for years -- except go to a French dentist. I got the name of one of the best and asked myself:  How bad could it be?

  Well, the French dentist was shorter than Laurence Olivier. In fact, I think he came up to my shoulders.

  He started off nice and friendly, telling me he’d studied in “Indiana, dans le pays profonde.”

  So far, so good. I was ushered into his blinding white office/drilling headquarters. One side of the giant, open room was an office with desk and chairs.  The other was taken up by a forbidding looking, white leather dental chair where the victim/hostage sits.

  Which is how I felt when I lowered myself into it.   But it was still going well enough; the dentist was beaming and asking if he could practice his English.  Fine by me.  I told him that my last dentist had taken X-rays that showed a cavity on my right side but that was two years ago.

  His face darkened slightly and he picked up  a terrifying-looking instrument.

  “We don’t know if you have a cavity,” he said, sternly. “Sometimes, they just tell you that.”

  “They do?” I said, having somehow missed the dentist-as-con-man in many decades of faithfully visiting dentists.

  I asked if he was going to take X-rays.

  “Maybe,” he said, picking at my teeth which had just been cleaned in New York in January. “Oh, you have so much plaque.  I won’t be able to do anything without cleaning first.”

  “I do?” I said, having only heard compliments from dental hygienists about my plaque-free teeth since I floss every night.

  The dentist then got up abruptly and swung a small, cylinder-like object toward me from behind the chair and stuck it up against the right side of my face.

  “Are you taking an X-ray?” I asked, wondering where the anti-radiation apron was.

  The dentist looked scornful. “We don’t use those for just one X-ray like this.”

  “So you’re just taking one X-ray?” I said, very confused.

  It appeared so.   But there was a glitch with the X-ray machine I didn’t understand; meanwhile his assistants kept coming and going out of the room and the dentist kept taking phone calls.

  The X-ray image came up on a video console near me and he said that yes, he could see a cavity on my right side, just as my other dentist had said.

  “But it hasn’t been there for two years, it’s been there for four years,” he said.  I didn’t ask how he could possibly know that.

  He sat back down near his tray of sinister instruments.

  “We’re going to clean first,” he said, picking at my teeth. Then he stopped what he was doing and said I would need anesthesia but the French word for anesthesia sounded like “incision” to me.

  “An incision?” I said.

  Lying New York dentists, one-eyed X-ray machines, filthy plaque-covered teeth? OK, but an incision?

  “Non, anesthésie!” he crowed.

  “Oh,” I said, slightly relieved.  ”Comme Novocain.”

  “Non!” he said. “Not Novocain.  We use something better.”

  Then he pried open my mouth again.

  “I will start on the cavity,” he said.

  “But I thought you said you had to clean the teeth first,” I said.

  “Non, I think I will do the cavity,” he said.

  At that point I said non, as I do so often in France.

  “Il faut que je réfléchisse un peu,” I said.  The dentist nodded.

  Apparently, getting all the way to the dental chair and then deciding against getting drilled in favor of some quiet reflection on your cavity at home is normale.

  He cleaned my teeth and laughed merrily when he hit a sensitive back molar and I rose out of my seat.

  Filling a cavity costs about $25 in France. The last cavity I had filled in New York cost $950.

  Looking back, it now seems worth every penny.

  I’ll keep swimming for my supper so I can afford it.

  Ta,

  

• Day 44: Another Relapse… In My Dreams

  Date: 2010.04.12 | Category: Uncategorized | Response: 1

  

  There’s nothing worse than describing one’s dream I know. So before your eyeballs glaze over like doughnuts, let me assure you’ll I’ll be quick.

  Bref, as the French say, my dream of relapsing and having sweets – a faux-lapse – involved ice cream and the actor Josh Holloway from “Lost” who plays Sawyer.

  Holloway is hot and has a great body but with his weird, Abominable Snowman swagger and Acting 101 repertoire of fierce and angry looks – he never quite closes the deal for me.

  

  Last night in my dream he had a son and wasn’t overacting.  Much more than that I cannot say, this is a family blog.  (Translation: I can’t remember.)

  There was also a tray of ice-cream cupcakes that was on a conveyor belt and almost slipped off it.  I caught the tray in time -and started licking the ice cream which, dream-style, had turned into regular ice cream cones.

  I never dream about regular food, even the stuff I love (Mexican! Thai!) nor do I dream about alcohol.  Then again I don’t really like the taste of alcohol, even wine.

  This is my second dream faux-lapse . Each time I am horrified and immediately think I’ll have to come clean on the blog.

  Because of this blog, I can’t even enjoy it.  And I like ice cream.

  Poor me.

  Ta,

  

• Day 41: What If I Was Lying?

  Date: 2010.04.09 | Category: Uncategorized | Response: 1

  This morning, while in the kitchen all alone, I saw some chocolate chip cookies left over from last night.

  What if I just ate one – and didn’t cop to it?

  A few minutes later, Christophe brought in some croissants and, yes, pain au chocolat, no surprise one of my favorites.

  I had my coffee WITHOUT SUGAR, I might add, and some brown bread with almond butter.  It was… okay.  Sugar-free coffee? Ugh.

  Not long after breakfast, I walked into the dining room to get something.

  One of the pain au chocolats had been sliced in half, revealing the exact amount of dark chocolate and its lovely texture within.

  I could have popped it in my mouth without anyone seeing – or knowing.

  And I could have pretended it didn’t happen myself.

  I am MORE than capable of all of the above.

  However, I am not lying when I say I didn’t do any of the above. Though I feel I could have easily.

  I know, I know relapsing is more fun than just writing about how every day I managed to avoid sweets.

  But the reason I didn’t surreptiously jam some sweet stuff in my mouth on the sly this morning is…. I don’t trust myself.

  I’m all or nothing.  Moderation is not my middle name.

  Look at me.

  Do I look moderate?

  Or maybe I should ask…

  Do I look trustworthy?

  Ta,