If I listen to the culture around me I learn that Christmas is about eating as much sweet stuff as I can fit into my mouth, spending too much money on gifts and dressing up for parties. There’s lots of lights, more than enough glitz to go around and cookies–my goodness but there are cookies!
Cookies get me every year. Who came up with the idea of the Christmas Cookie anyway? Everywhere I turn they are laughing at me with their powdered sugar icing eyes. I can’t escape! Before I can say sweet tooth, I’ve gained 10 pounds and I’m fully sugar addicted again. And I can’t hide from Christmas. That’s not an option. So I have to stare my cookie addiction straight in the face and deal with it head on.
In years past I’ve come up with strategies to deal with my cookie problems. Denial. Self-control. Exercise. You name it, I’ve tried it. So when I walked down the hall at work this morning and the guys invited me to have some cookies they were taken aback by my curt response, “Nooooooooo!” It was more of a caterwaul than a word. A wail. A cry of agony that meant, “Please don’t wave cookies at me. I can’t stand it!” They looked at me and laughed. “Okay then, Margaret. Don’t eat any cookies. Good grief!”
I was at a luncheon with other admins at work recently when the dessert menu came out. I took one look at the picture of chocolate silk cheesecake pie and leapt out of my seat and fled the restaurant. Everyone was staring at me. I felt ridiculous and I didn’t care. All I could think was, “Run! Run for your life!” I didn’t know what else to do. I knew if I ate that chocolate silk thing I was doomed. Doomed to eating more. Stricken by false need to coat my throat with sugar, fat and salt. And I just couldn’t deal with it. I didn’t care what people thought. I just knew I had to run and never look back.
Today I survived the infamous office department meeting with the most beautiful Christmas cookies I have ever seen. Okay, I see them all the time, but every time is a new temptation. They were lovely. Soft. Sensuously sweet. And now I’m drooling again.
The truth about cookies is this, I don’t have a stop button when it comes to them. If I eat one, I have to eat 10 and 20 and 100. I don’t know why. It’s not fair. But something in my body goes completely berserk when they come into contact with my tongue. So this year my new strategy is an old one…just say no. And then don’t cry about it. Don’t obsess about how unfair it is that I can’t have them. Don’t listen to the lies my brain concocts about having been so good that I can eat just one. It’s all poppycock! This year, I have resolved not to eat even one Christmas cookie. Period. End of story. And that’s that.
Did someone just say Chick-Fil-A ice cream? Dang-it!
Leave a Reply