At 9:30 last night I grabbed my wallet and car keys and high tailed it up to the grocery store for the most fattening ice cream I could find. I wasn’t upset or depressed. And I wasn’t hormonal or anything like that. I had the craving all darn day, and finally after hours of so badly wanting that rich, cold deliciousness, I gave in.
99.9% of the time you won’t see me making the eleventh hour run to the grocery store. It has nothing to do with super human willpower, or any desire to consistently squeeze into my favorite, unforgiving jeans.
Mr. Allyson (aka Husband) is here for the job. You know how they say to avoid temptation, just don’t keep bad stuff in the house? If you don’t buy it and have it around, then problem solved and diet kept intact, right? Well, that trick doesn’t work in our world. Husband has trekked to the store in the wee hours of the night for chocolate, chips, cake, or whatever else I require. Now, this is usually self serving on his part, because then it’s just an excuse to get whatever he wants, too.
But who cares?
Last night I wanted to be the one to go. I just wasn’t sure what it was going to be, the decadent and sinful treat that would tickle my fancy. Chocolate hazelnut gelato? Häagen-Dazs vanilla, pure white sweetness with black flecks of bean throughout? Or something with a peanut butter ribbon?
All three made it into the cart. And there wasn’t a shred of guilt within me to be found.
I have been careless with my diet lately. It all started with Easter chocolate and I have been going strong ever since. I get like this sometimes. I have these phases when I don’t want to eat at all, and then I can go weeks or even months and want everything under the sun. Now is one of those times. I’m not sad, worried, or depressed. If anything I am the happiest I have been in a long time. Writing again has given me purpose. As far as my marriage goes, I have been feeling extra loved lately. And doggie mommyhood is so wonderful that I want to adopt baby #3 soon. I just don’t know what it is that has me indulging my every craving these days. I’m just going with it.
Earlier today I closed my eyes as I walked through the house, and I could feel how my hips have grown just a tad. How my belly is just a bit softer. Oddly, it feels good. I welcome it. It isn’t bothering me in the least. I think it comes down to knowing I am doing what I want, that I no longer believe in deprivation. In college I was an anorexic, miserable mess. I think back to those years and how, sadly, I lost so many moments. Missed out on all that pleasure. For nothing.
I never want to be there again.
Now there is more of me to love. Those extra tight jeans are hanging in the closet, waiting for my return. It will happen eventually. I will start caring again.
For now they can wait a day or two.
Maybe even forever.
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