I knew the news wasn’t going to be good. I’ve been avoiding my day of reckoning for a while. I’ve been consciously remiss – if I didn’t know, I could feign innocence, then I wouldn’t have to address the problem, I wouldn’t have to own it. But I knew what I was doing, I knew the problem was brewing.
I find it easy to pull the wool over my own eyes – I’m gullible. I’ve got the perfect sales pitch to sell myself anything. I find it convenient to leave myself in the dark, especially when it comes to conversations with the bathroom scale.
In my defense I can still do my jeans up without having to lie on the floor; jeans are usually pretty serious about demanding honesty. Sure, they’re a bit snugger and I don’t put them in the dryer anymore, but I’m not bulging over the waist band too badly. I’m a little ‘softer’ lately, squishyer. I haven’t done much in the exercise department since my walking buddy blew his knee back in October. I’ve got eighty-three excuses to why I’ve packed on the pounds – none of them good.
I let my resolve down about wine drinking, I re-established my relationship with Purdy’s and dessert. I’ve been enjoying a very happy holiday season for the past three months. I’ve had a vacation from accountability. But now the party’s over, it’s time to face the music.
I like to tell myself I actually don’t enjoy forging blindly ahead, eating whatever I want whenever I want. That’s a lie, I know what I’m doing. I do know that I like fitting in my jeans better than I like cheesecake – it’s just sometimes cheesecake is very tempting, and tomorrow is always a better day to not eat it. And then tomorrow comes and I accidentally, on purpose, find the dregs of the Christmas chocolates. Throwing perfectly good, rejected chocolates into the garbage is akin to throwing the still blooming poinsettia onto the compost pile – it’s unconscionable. So down the hatch with those as I circle yet another tomorrow on the calendar.
I’ve tomorrowed myself to the point where the bathroom scale won’t be ignored any more. It confirmed my worst suspicions this morning. I stepped on the scale and ruined the day – hell, I may have ruined the next three months! Oh well…. I can face the music tomorrow (or the next day). The pounds were easier coming than they will be going and I will need a little fortification before I start the journey. One more day of eating with abandon will hardly make a difference.