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Sunday, October 4, 2015

What to Do When The GREAT Donut of Temptation Comes Knocking On Your Door (and What Not To)


Rule 1 : Don't go shopping when you are not altogether mentally stable. This includes sleep deprivation and hearing voices, especially Miss Belly Fat voices.

Case in point, I was kind of "set up" by my own adipose tissue. It often rebels against my better judgment, floats to my brain and takes over my ability to reason out of good shopping decisions. In this case, I had worked a 12 hour night shift after going to town early and running allot of errands. I was tired and she knew she'd have that edge on me. Cunningly, she started whispering "donut" ever quietly in my subconscious. Valiantly, I shopped with the utmost honor. Okay, I am lying. I started off with a sugary latte and felt too guilty to add a donut to my ever expanding hips. The latte, I reasoned, would keep my brain in check. I had a birthday party to grocery shop for and that would require a lot of brain power which was sadly registering "low" on my meter of brain activity.

After spending over an hour trying to figure out what to buy and finding the best deals, I realized that I was going to end up paying waaaay too much for ice cream if I didn't go to the other grocery store in town. I just can't stand to spend too much on anything and with great reluctance, I knew I'd have to drive over there. I congratulated myself on leaving the store without a donut. Lurking in the back of my subconscious was Miss Belly Fat reminding me that donuts could be had at the other store. My accomplishment was short lived.

After successfully finding a great deal on BREYERS ICE CREAM, I gloated across the store to the end, waltzing if you will, past the bakery section until my eyeballs almost popped out of my head. Sometimes I wonder if my love affair with sugar, salt and fat is as bad as how men feel about curvy women. There, across the store, my heart began doing flip flops. I saw an ENTIRE SHOPPING CART LOADED TO THE TOP WITH DONUTS OF EVERY VARIETY. A baker boy was throwing in more by the minute. I sashayed up to him and asked him nonchalantly if these were samples. "Nope" he said. "Sale?" "Nope" he replied again patiently. I was losing my patience and charm a bit. There was an edge to my tone which I tried to cover "well what are they for?" I demanded. "Pig Farmers" he explained, going on to tell me that he could only give them to people with livestock. He said day old donuts were not for human consumption by order of the store policy. Wheels were turning in my head, and after convincing the boy that I, too, was a pig owner, the wheels of the donut overloaded shopping cart were wheeling right out of the store toward my Tundra!!!!

Once I got there, a large sticky problem presented itself. I did not have the strength to lift the gigantic bag of pastries into the truck. Every time I tried, the bag started ripping, which was the last thing I wanted to happen. After making a big scene trying to tip the cart into my passenger seat, a kindly man noticing my dilemma rushed over to help. I informed him that I was having an " I Love Lucy Moment". He smiled and helped me lift the gigantic donut of temptation into the Tundra where it took up the 2 front seats which I was not sitting in. As soon as I thanked him, Miss Belly Fat strategically took over my entire brain for a very short time. I morphed into one of my pet pigs and well, something very disturbing happened. Minutes later, I woke up with sticky fingers and realized I was attempting to drive down the road in a sugar coma. I hurriedly pulled over not wanting to explain to an officer that I was euphoric on the mother load of day old pastries. Sitting in that church parking lot was a sign of the 10 Commandments, and I was pretty sure that I was in some state of transgression. This was bad, really bad. There was no removing it either. It was going to ride ALL THE WAY HOME with me and I knew I was a gonner for sure.

I mused, as I hit the open highway. Sadly and Ironically, I had spent a fortune on Fancy Smancy Non GMO feed which was taking up the entire back of the truck. Only the best, healthiest stuff for our pigs. On top of that was a futon which I found at a thrift store for my son's birthday. Again, the Great Donut of Temptation riding shotgun. Try to picture me driving down the road in a sleep deprived state, with all of this going on.

I busted in the door like a mad woman demanding my husband grab the camera quickly. He was quite leery, being well versed in his wife's "Lucy Moments". He did not look pleased. For the past hour, I'd been practicing facebook profile pics with my mother load into the rear view mirror. He rolled his eyes and asked me "WHAT DID YOU DO?!?!" He had envisioned worse and didn't seem too disturbed. My children went berserk and stayed berserk. Since I went to bed shortly after posting my new facebook profile pic, they were free to help themselves to the spoils. My husband did feed the pigs, but I fed myself, the kids and the neighbors kids, a visiting friend or two, my dog, and quite unfortunately added some thick winter padding on my rapidly expanding hips.

Today, a few days after what Moonbeam calls "one of my favorite childhood memories", I begged my husband to give the rest of it to the pigs. I could no longer take having it in the house. The sugary smell never stopped calling me and Miss Belly Fat kept reasoning that they'd still be good if I warmed them up in the oven. Thankfully, I never stooped to such dastardly deeds, largely because Catman's left over birthday cheese cake seems to beckon louder from the refrigerator with most passing moments............................

Every Tuesday, I run with a pack, just like a wild dog. Its a pack of very wild women who kick the crap out of me. I am huffing and puffing and Miss Belly Fat trembles in fear and agony. My hips remind me that I am only getting older. My gut wretches. My bladder threatens to let loose, BUT, oh yeah, and my butt, well she jiggles into oblivion. My wings rub and chafe. I sweat what smells like an old bakery. I could go on, but I'll try not to give you any more mental pictures of such atrocities. As I was saying, EVERY TUESDAY this doom awaits me. Days beforehand I consider what my diet is consisting of and I am reminded that if I eat crap, I will feel even crappier on that day. I am hoping that this and the sight of myself in a bikini will whip me back into shape. After my donut binge, I am making strides toward healthier eating and less fat on the horizon......... Case in point, rule 1 addendum : Do Not Attempt to Secure Grocery Carts Full of Donuts for Your Live Stock

1 comment:

baili said...

thank you for such full of life sharing makes me energetic