Every time I think I’ve gotten away from my unhealthy relationship with carbs, they pull me back in.
They sit in pretty packages with little elves on them and beckon me with fudge-striped goodness. They hide in bright blue bags that promise a salty, tortilla-filled vacation. They rest in little tubs with innocent names like Ben and Jerry. They bubble in cans and ping my name when I pass them by.
I avoid them for days at a time by eating vegetables and protein. I move by them in the grocery store as they beckon me with their smooth siren slogans.
Then Friday comes, and I decide to reward myself with just one more date. After a week of yoga and healthy eating, don’t I deserve a little decadence? So I buy several bags of chips, a couple of boxes of cookies and some sugary liquids. I sit on the couch, reach into the first bag and nibble a little bit of heaven. I chase it with a sip of liquid gold. If I could snort it, I would.
I go into the Carb Zone where there is no time and no responsibility. Before I know it, I’ve been sitting on the couch for an entire weekend, and my television is as sugary as the contents in my stomach. I feel depressed, and my pants have shrunk.
Eventually, I have to take out the trash. The hummingbirds buzz me, disgusted with my lethargy, but they have no street cred with me because they live on sugar water.
I go inside and look at the crumbs on the floor and realize that I’ve had another Lost Weekend.
So, in the name of all that’s good in life, I dump carbs on Sunday evening and prepare for a work week. I kick them to the curb. I declare myself free of their bad influence.
But I know that on Friday they’ll be waiting for me … leaning against my car in a leather jacket with a cigarette pack rolled up in their sleeve. I will say “No, you’re not good for me.” Then they will beckon me with a toss of the head that points to Kroger.
And, of course, it has been a really rough week. And I’ve been good. And, the car door shuts.
We all have our food temptations. What is yours?