About a Danish


I just said to myself, aloud, “You do NOT want that damn danish!”

I can assure you: I want said danish very,very much.

But almost a week into the 17 day diet and a break this weekend to have pizza and wine (and yes, a danish and coffee) with some old friends, well, I have to be a good little soldier or the past several days will have been for nothing. So while I want that danish, with all my fatty heart, I will not eat the danish.

This morning was stressful and hard. A neighbor ran their car into our back fence and took off, I pulled a “do over the weekend” project out of my son’s backpack. This morning. He’s Student of the Week, which is a big deal and something he’s been pining for, so skipping was not an option. We slapped together an “All About Me” poster in 10 minutes, but he was still late. Sigh.

Coffee and a danish sounded good. Really good. I even took a mug out. But then I realized, food fixes nothing but hunger.  40 years old and I’m just now learning this, but better late than never, right?

In related news, it’s cold. In the flurry of activity this morning, I neglected to weigh myself. I just did and read a 4 pound weight gain, which undid all my progress. Oh, hell no. I said to hell with the cold, stripped down to undies and shivered while I weighed again, twice. 243, both times, which means I actually lost a pound. Yay!!! I had no idea I was wearing so many clothes, but hey, as I said, it’s cold.

Suddenly, I really don’t want that danish.

Actually, I do. So I’m just going to throw them in the trash now, okay?

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