When I decided that I wanted to lose weight, I told myself it was okay to sneak in a few last treats – almost like I was headed to death row and this was my last meal (“What do you want on your Tombstone?”). Even though the program I plan to follow allows you to splurge every now and then, or even eat something considered to be “bad” by most diets by giving up the majority of the rest of the day’s food, gone will be the days of getting a bacon, egg, and cheese bagel from McDonalds for breakfast, having Kraft Mac and Cheese for lunch, and mashed potatoes for dinner, with a little grazing thrown in in between.
I’ve made my peace with McDonalds; I made my last bowl of bagels and dip (the two main ingredients are mayonaise and sour cream). Then came… The Box.
The Box was handed to me by my grandma on Christmas Eve. She’d made a few extra cookies, it would seem, and given some to everyone. The Box was small, non-descript, and looked like it could hold at most, a dozen cookies.
Wrong. Oh so wrong. The box held sour cream and chocolate chip cookes (with frosting), poppy seed cookies (with frosting), chocolate cherry cookies (with frosting), peanut butter cookies with chocolate Kisses, homemade peanut butter cups, lemon bars, chocolate coconut balls, and cherry chocolate chip bread. All told, there were about four dozen cookies in The Box.
I put it in the freezer and didn’t give it a glance until the night of Christmas Day. Then, I went nuts.
While I’d love to blame The Box, I know the responsibility lies with me that I will be starting out the process of losing weight five pounds heavier. I could even blame that mysterious concept known as “the holidays”, but really, it’s just me. I’m hopeful that the fact I can acknowledge that is somehow meaningful, but I guess I’ll find out soon.