Candy’s back. Right outside my office. On the table (the stupid table). Little tiny candy bars — some with peanuts, some with little crispies, some just milky, melty chocolate. So little, you can’t just have one. So close, it’s no trouble to pop up from my desk and grab one. Then another.
Voice in my head: “It’s just a little candy bar; a tiny, miniature candy bar. What harm could it do?”
Me: “Enough of them could undo all this hard work and weight loss.”
Voice: “You’re in the 120s! You DESERVE to celebrate.”
Me: “THAT’S the attitude that put me 25 pounds over weight to begin with…”
Voice: “Chocolate is good.”
Me: “Well maybe just one…”
The voice has been winning. I’m justifying my indulgence with the fact that the whole idea of losing weight slowly and making sublte lifestyle changes was so that I COULD have chocolate when I craved it… in moderation, of course.
Ahhhh. Moderation. I almost forgot about that. It applies in moments of cravings… but also over the course of a day, a week, a month. It means if I have a bad afternoon… and a bad evening of chocolate cravings (and we all have those), I just have to start fresh the next day and maybe resist the temptation altogether for a day or two.
Stupid table.