I am always appalled when I watch these *ahem* reality shows and I see adults throw hissy fits when they are not getting their own way.
Let me pause here, because the first thing that saddens me in the above phrase is the fact that I watch garbage like that, and secondly, I *ummm stutter* may have fallen into that hissy fittin' group.
It all started yesterday.... *cue memory inducing music*
I had been on day sixteen of what would become 17 long days of another one of my cleanses. Desperate to feel better and more desperate to loose a dress size or two before heading off to Italy, I had yet again radically changed my eating plan.
Salads, salads and more salads, followed by apples apples and more apples and I had dropped a miraculous 9 pounds in 12 days. Still eating healthily and definitely no sign of deprivation, I was on a mission (and still am) to see some results, but as I hit lucky day number 16, I woke up craving the inevitable. Oh gosh, there it was, in my face, huge, dark and sweet, oh yes Chocolate was calling my name. And it was saying "come on stumpy girl, what's another cellulite dimple on yer big ole ass, come on eat me! You know you wanna!!!" Yes, my chocolate craving was a bit of a hillbilly.
Earlier in the week, my better half was rushed in for some dental surgery which left him with a mouth full of stitches and a prescribed penchance for soft foods, consisting of ice cream, puddings, more ice cream and more damn puddings!
For the first few days, his eating of refined sugary and fat inducing sweets, did not, let me repeat, did not in the slightest bother me, until the sixteenth almost fatal day of my cleanse.
I had done my usual routine which is to weigh myself in the evening before I went to bed (yes I weigh myself then) only to see that I had not moved one ounce, not one bloody ounce in 4 long days. Frustrated and exasperated at the scale, my better half snuck around me and placed his long lanky frame up on the evil device to reveal that during his sugar frenzie he had lost two pounds! Two pounds??!!!??? TWO FREAKING POUNDS whilst I remained stagnant in my belly and ass poundage!
While that boy walked around consuming a tub of lard, I had been sprouting lettuce for hair, carrots for teeth and cauliflower for ears and still had not moved one single line on that damn scale.
In what could be described as one of the worst hissy fits of my life (although I think my family would beg to differ), I literally ran down the stairs screaming at the top of my lungs "THAT'S NOT FAIR, THAT'S NOT FAIR... YOU SUCK YOU SUCK YOU SUCK!!" And then I frantically opened each of my cupboards until I found the glorious one foot long chocolate bar I had received as a gift from my friend in Sweden. And there it sat in my hands, beckoning me, calling me, lord it was screaming at me! "Oh just eat my Tracy, I mean seriously, how much damage can I do, I am only half your size in height and way like 10 pounds, but what the heck, eat me girl, just eat me!!!!" For two long hard silent minutes, I glared at that chocolate bar, I slobbered on that chocolate bar, I whimpered over that chocolate bar, I caressed it, hugged it, stroked it and lovingly kissed its wrapper. And then with a child-like pout, I got up from the couch, and with a gentle tear rolling down my red hot face, I slammed it back into the cupboard, walked past my better half (who was now sitting there with a disturbingly amused grin on his face), flicked him in the back of the head and said "oh shut up" and then with a hearty slam of the door, off to bed I went at 8:00 p.m.!
Yup, it wasn't pretty, but I made it my friends, I made it through my first furious fit!
Until Next Time.