Spicing It Up

Well, it’s happened. You know how I was keeping a food diary, and I joked about “spicing it up” since it’s possibly best to keep in mind that someone will actually be reading your food diary, so you don’t eat totally unhealthy foodstuffs, etc.? Well, yesterday, I wrote this:

“8:30 Devil made me do it: 2 cinnamon rolls & chips + wine for dinner.”

Before that, it was all Salade Niçoise, 8 almonds, hard-boiled egg (no yolk), 1/3 cup raspberries, ½ cup green beans, and that kind of thing.

I did not even say how many chips (because I did not count them; I ate from the bag, a no-no), how many glasses of wine (2 ½-ish) and that the cinnamon rolls were glopped with cream cheese icing.

I guess the lesson here is manyfold (similar to waistline):

1.  Do not buy fresh cinnamon rolls from the Jewel bakery, glopped with cream cheese icing, even though you are on an emergency trip to the store for milk and orange juice, butter and eggs, and all things breakfast-y, and have to get home quickly because daughter needs car for work, which is why you did not get to go to the Farmers Market in Bloomington, where the cinnamon rolls are as big as your head, so at least you didn’t eat two of those, or even ¼ of one of those, so that’s healthy!

2.  Do not think that just writing stuff down will help you resist temptation.

3.  Remember that if you eat all-healthy and swim laps, etc., the added effort of writing it all down may tip you over the edge into a cream-cheese icing kind of meltdown (10 seconds in the microwave).

4.  Do not think that doing this on a Saturday night is any excuse, even though you can go to church and repent the next morning, because you don’t go to that kind of church, if any church really has a food-diary confessional booth.

5.  Do not think you can blame the barometric pressure, even though Kindergarten teachers sometimes do, to explain wild behavior in the classroom, even though a thunderstorm did follow closely upon the cream cheese icing extravagance.

6.  Nor the devil, who is unlikely to exist, except in the hearts of men (and food-diary-keeping women).

I don’t even want to offer a picture today, because it might be the French Toast Fantasy you can order and actually eat at Ann Sather restaurant in Chicago, with mascarpone filling.

P.S. Happy Father’s Day. Also it’s a Fat Tuesday on a Sunday.

P.P.S. OK, pomegranates, and their seeds, which kept Persephone (skinny) in the underworld. (It's like juicy red corn, way healthier than Insane Grain, a Beer Nuts product. Don't get me started.)