I keep trying to remind myself, "There's nothing wrong with chocolate cake." A piece won't kill you. It's eating the whole damned cake--and then baking and eating another one--that will kill you. Right? Right.
So now the trick is not eating cake TODAY. Yesterday was a special occasion. We had a friend for dinner. (Well, not FOR dinner... we didn't cook and eat her or anything! I'm not THAT bad!) But now it's the day before Thanksgiving, I'm looking at the looming food-filled holiday days ahead, and wondering how in the hell people do this every day. How do you NOT eat chocolate cake if half a cake is sitting on your counter, the kids are home from school and driving you insane, you have a house to clean, food to cook for Thanksgiving tomorrow, a husband on his way to a job interview insisting you "did something" with the envelope he left on top of the microwave for a week with his application and license in it that you vaguely remember seeing but don't know if you moved in your crazy not-really-cleaning-just-shoving-things-out-of-sight straightening binge before company came yesterday...?
How do you NOT eat the cake? My inner Marie Antoinette says: "Cake! Let them eat cake!"
So I'm doing what I usually do, and avoiding. I'm in my room on my laptop blogging about food, my stomach is growling, the kids are starting to whine about breakfast, and I don't want to face the kitchen. I know, it's silly. I'll go face the cake in a minute. After I finish this post. Gee, how long do you think I can make it?
Not only that, but I have to bake pumpkin-orange cheesecake today. Another day of baking delectable desserts. I don't know if I can do it. I don't understand how something like food can have this kind of power, but it does. It always has. Harley works with addicts (the "real" kind - you know, heroin, crack, crystal meth - although I don't know how sugar can't count. White powder is white powder, am I right?) and he always says, it's not the substance, it's the addiction. And he's right, of course.
The addict is only PART of me. Not the whole of me. That's what I have to remember. Queen B knows she can make smarter, healthier choices. Queen B loves herself and wants to live a long and healthy life. I'm just going to have to behead that inner Marie Antoinette. To hell with you, bitch, I'm NOT gonna eat cake!
Off to face the kitchen.