my mortar is crumbling ...

I built a 20 foot wall all around me 10 feet thick with He best redfired brick and mortar that i could to keep myself away from the dreaded caloric bliss. in the middle of my fifth week I find that there are crumbling edges and little teeny tiny tastebud holes driven through the mortar. The brick withstands all - solid and real -it is my need to be healthy, my desire for knees that don't ache, and back that no longer throbs from the frontage mass.

But the mortar is weak, a conglomerate of struggling willpower, wanting to want to be healthy enough to give up all those delicacies that I enjoy, that lovely pair of size 18 jeans with the rhinestones on the back pockets and an underwire uplift rack for the girls.

The poutine is calling.

I had gravy and smashed tatoes on thanksgiving and left overs the next day. But even the 2nd day I stayed within my limits. I've cut of the liquid grain intake and unfortunately a fair chunk of my social life in the process because I never was good at moderation. I can do it, but I'm starting to not want to and temptation is so much more tempting at this point.

Today I had a hot turkey sandwich on brown (yech) with just a soupcon of gravy and one small ice cream scoop of smashed tatoes - maybe 450 calories - well within limits - but I wanted MORE!!! so I had salad.

I think the worst part about this is that I'm a rather all or nothing kind of girl - very zen. And I'm starting to resent my own goals that I set myself - which makes me WEAK. and then I get angry at myself and don't those chocolate chip cookies look so very tasssty. Where did those stupid raisins go....