I may be onto something.
Every couple weeks or so, I get a little cranky… or bored… or pre-menstrual… or excited — and I want to dive off the deep end into chocolate-ville… and never come up for air. I play with the urge for a while, dabble in a little chocolate, then deal with the guilt and the fear that I haven’t really changed my lifestyle at all — that this is just another fad diet and any success will be short-lived.
Then I go back to basics. I eat an apple when I really want something sweet. I drink a big glass of water. I take a walk. I indulge in my fun lunch (which is a turkey wrap with avocado). And it’s okay. I actually like apples. I like water, walking and turkey wraps. They’re no chocolate (or bacon or cake or salt-vinegar chips) — but if I can opt for the good stuff–say… 9 out of 10 times–I’m going to be fine. And that 10th time, I relish every single bite.
It’s not that hard. It’s not that hard. It’s not that hard.
Okay, it’s a little hard.