If you give a mom a cookie...

Ice cream is exquisite.  What a pity it isn't illegal.  

~Voltaire

Whipped cream isn't whipped cream at all unless it's been whipped with whips. Just as a poached egg isn't a poached egg unless it's been stolen from the woods in the dead of night!  

~Roald Dahl, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

I am having what my oldest little would call a "whiny butt" evening. All I want is to have the hubs home so that I might enjoy a quiet (quasi quiet) evening to myself. Perhaps a bath and a good book. A book? What's a book you mean something that doesn't contain picture, rhyme, pop-ups, and lasts longer than ten pages. I've never heard of such a thing. Anyways I am just a tad worn but marching on day by day.

So I was pretty down yesterday evening and no matter how much I told myself that I was glad I was me. I still wanted something to sweeten that deal. Something sugary, something delectable and for those of us on a diet... forbidden. 

I have found that with eating right when the urge to indulge comes it is not a soft whimper. It is instead a symphony of desire, a rapture of temptation that will not shut up until fulfilled. That was the case last evening. I usually try to be good and have a cup of hot cocoa with a little reddi-whip. Well that was not going to do the trick. So I looked in my pantry to see what was on hand. Well nothing ready. I muttered an obscenity and called myself a one of those health nut bitches. Until I saw sulking in the back of the cupboard. All alone and as if calling me to show it some love, a little bag of butterscotch chip. "Hello" I cooed and cradled it as I walked it into the kitchen and thought how best to use my new found treasure. I am proud to say that I didn't just hoover the chips on there own. No, I had some restraint. I was going to treat this prize like a lady and show a little finesse.

So I made cookies, not just any cookies I made my grandmothers oatmeal cookies. Which my hubs so lovingly calls "Crack" cookies. Since once you eat one you usually don't stop until you wake up the next morning not knowing where you are. All you know is that you just gotta get your next fix. So as I waited for the little morsels to bake I consciously tried to talk myself out of eating them, "Don't do it", "You are going to undo all your hard work", "You can give these away instead of eating them". Well I pretty much told my conscious to go fuck his Jiminy Cricket self and I was gonna eat some damn cookies!!!  No, not my proudest moment. 

Well it happened just like I knew it would. I ate more than the recommended amount and the inevitable happened. I woke up the next morning feeling like I had had a one night stand with Jabba the Hut. Yep, I hated myself just a little bit more. Telling myself "I am glad to be me" is a little hard through gritted teeth. Especially trying to mean it. Not to mention that after I said it I felt like I got punched in the guts. 

So I slipped a little, but I am owning up to it. The thing is I know it won't be the last time either. I am an emotional eater and when I am feeling down a little sweet snack gives me this blanket of comfort that I don't get while I am on my own. So no I am not proud of this misstep but I won't punish myself for it either. I have my new "Ripped" class to do that.