First off, the answer to yesterday's quiz question, that I'm sure you are all chomping at the bit to procure. Or not. The question was "Why did Dorothy ACTUALLY throw the water at the Wicked Witch of the West?" And the answer (that will no doubt bring a smile to the faces of all my female readers) is C. Dorothy was ticked off that the witch was trying to rip off her favorite shoes. You see, in the original story, the shoes that Glinda the Good conveys to Dorothy after her house falls on the Wicked Witch of the East, are silver--not ruby--and Dorothy gets quite attached to them. She doesn't know that they do anything special, she just likes them.
Consequently, when the Wicked Witch of the West enslaves Dorothy in her castle, those pretty shoes are the bright spot in Dorothy's day while she's busy fixing the witch's meals and mopping the witch's floors. One day, the witch puts an invisible board in the middle of the kitchen, which Dorothy trips over, and in so doing, loses one of her silver shoes. The witch snatches it up, laughs at Dorothy's distress, and promises that one day, she will steal the other shoe as well. The cruel trick is just too much, and sweet little Dorothy loses her temper. She picks up a bucket of dirty dish water and flings it at the witch, and thus ends the witch.
Well, let me tell you, I had some bad days this week. Maybe I should have gone out and bought myself some shoes, but honestly, I'm not sure it would have helped. For about three days, it seemed that nothing--absolutely nothing--would satisfy me. All I wanted to do was eat; every hour was a battle. I was determined to win, but miserable all the way. Sorry to say, it was a female thing, so all male readers immediately concerned with "Too Much Information," please skip to paragraph five.
Female hormones are a mixed pot--wonderful and horrible all at the same time. This month, I was feeling all of the horrible and none of the wonderful. I was eating just like I had all the previous weeks--filling foods--whole grains, veggies, and lean protein. But every time I opened the fridge, I fought the urge throw tracking and accountability to the wind. I wanted the ice cream, no bowl, just me and the carton. And after that, I wanted a pimiento cheese sandwich with a generous side of cocktail weenies. What was a girl to do?
Well, you already know what I did. I went to bed early two days in a row. I felt utterly depressed, but as low as I felt, I knew I'd feel worse if I ate all those things and then saw it on the scale Monday morning. I did use some flex points, but tomorrow is weigh in, and I still have six flex points left, so I definitely didn't blow it entirely; and for my trouble, my subconscious came up with a terrific villain. So, thank you for indulging me, and without further ado, return with me to the land of Oz, where I'm about to get some direction, make some friends, and do battle with Evil Witch Hormonees.