Need I say more?

This post is just going to be another food confessional. I need a food confessional like nobody’s business after this past week. I need to repent, maybe do some penance, you know, like eating only vegetables for the next three days. Except I need some protein in there too. Okay, only vegetables and chicken. I’m really bored with chicken right now, so that seems like an appropriate punishment. Chicken and veggies it is.

Are you curious yet? Wait for it. It’s coming.

The beginning of the end: Tuesday night. Roomie and I were watching something on TV, and that Pizza Hut commercial came on. You know, THAT commercial. There’s some new cheese-pocket crust. It’s really just like stuffed crust, but you can SEE the cheese. All the melty, bubbly, yummy, I-haven’t-eaten-pizza-in-months cheese. And before I could stop myself, the words had left my mouth, “Oh my God, we should get that pizza on Friday night.”

Roomie needs to learn to stand up to me, so she can put an end to my foolish ideas. She really does. She’s just too easy going. Or something.

“You don’t have to talk me into it.”

Ugh. No. She was supposed to say “no.”

Okay, so I was eating pizza on Friday. That’s fine. I always do something like that at least once a week. Or twice. Maybe, I don’t know, SEVEN times. No, not really. That was just this week.

I happen to have eaten a few buffalo wings on Wednesday night. Whoops! How’d that happen? Oh well, a few wings aren’t really that terrible.

But Thursday WAS terrible. And it was mostly not my fault. Around 11am, an email message started circulating about a lunch trip to The Burger Joint (yes, that is the actual name of the restaurant) and who might be interested in going. This happens a lot with various lunchtime outings. I usually politely decline such invitations. It’s not hard, since I don’t have any money anyway. But this time, the message was accompanied by a delicious, scrumptious photo of a hamburger and fries, and we even got a follow-up visit to see if the picture had had any effect on me or Josh, the notorious non lunch goers.

In a moment of weakness, I must have displayed the briefest hesitation, because from that point on, my email was inundated with mouthwatering pictures of hamburgers. Seriously. The guys over in the electrical department need some deadlines or something to keep them occupied.

How was I supposed to resist such a blatant attempt to win over my taste buds? Besides, I missed having lunch with the guys! (That sounds like a better reason. Why don’t we just pretend it was the real reason I went?)

Fast forward to the much anticipated pizza on Friday night (I keep wanting to capitalize Pizza for some reason; it’s just that important to me) for which I was so excited—and also, by that point, so very hungry—that I immediately consumed half the pizza without letting my brain catch up to my stomach.

As difficult to believe as this may seem, half of a large pizza with cheese stuffed crust is, in fact, a bit too much food for me. I spent the rest of the night slothing around and complaining to Roomie (who had the sense not to wolf down her entire half pizza in 15 seconds) that I felt sick.

I wonder why that could have been?

I also ate two almond-flour cookies for no discernible reason. It’s as if I just decided that my body couldn’t possibly absorb any more food, so the cookies just didn’t count.

Saturday morning, I drove to Lancaster, PA and spent most of the rest of the weekend visiting my old college roommate. And eating. It’s just so much fun to escape from the boonies on the outskirts of Baltimore and go someplace where they actually have adorable hold-in-the-wall places that you can walk to for lunch. Or breakfast. Or dinner.

I may also have insisted we get ice cream.

I may have also ordered twice as much ice cream as I actually wanted, needed, or was really capable of eating. But there were TWO flavors I needed to try. I clearly had no choice in the matter. What’s a little stomach ache when something this important is on the line?

Confession: I also stopped for ice cream at a different favorite place on the way home on Sunday. The whole weekend was pretty much a wash, so what was a little more sugar?

Needless to say, I was al keen to get back on the clean eating bandwagon come Monday, and I only packed healthy food in my briefcase of food for work. But apparently, I wasn’t allowed back on board quite yet.

It was someone’s birthday. In fact, it was two people’s birthday. Dang. There was really no option out of eating the cake without being rude. I know what you’re thinking, and it’s true that nobody actually shoved cake in my mouth. But before I started this paleo eating thing, I was that person who would eat anything and everything. And I loved being the skinny girl who could out-eat a football player. It was part of my identity. I don’t want to be one of those people who says, “I don’t eat that.” I don’t know why, but the idea bothers me.

So I had a piece of cake. But I sneakily threw the frosting out while nobody was looking! That’s got to count for something, right?


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