And January 1st started out so promising! And then. Well, you knew there had to be a "and then" or you wouldn't be reading would you? The day started as follows: get up, stumble toward coffee pot, pop in TWO pieces of toast. When my coffee cup and I returned to the toaster 30 minutes later to retrieve said hard-as-a-rock toast, I realized my first error.
You see, I've had a while to think about changes that need to be happening--but there are so many! Being my oger-achieving, obsessive, compulsive, slightly manic self; I cleansed my mind with a list. Fortunately, as I am lightly medicated for the afformentioned issues, I knew better than to attempt them all on January 1st. Baby steps, I tell myself.
Consequently, the only change I had planned for the first of the year, was being more conscious of my portions. The "law of one" as I call it, is a basic guideline to limit Hiroshimom to a proper serving. You see, food is my drug of choice. Hi. My name's Sarah, and I love to eat. I have heard many other "substances" demonized in my lifetime, but food was not one of them. I grew up Baptist after all, and the potluck was practically the third ordinance.
But my eating problem is nobody's fault but my mine. I'll own it--just like I'll own to what happened on January 1st, 2013. It wasn't even 8:00, and I'd already made a sub-conscious violation of "the law." I made a choice--a good choice--and I only ate one piece of the toast with some peanut butter and a glass of milk. Mid-morning, I had a glass of water instead of more coffee and a cookie. For lunch, I had an open-faced sandwich instead of my usual dagwood. I resisted the left over stocking candy that seemed to be strewn everywhere.
When the mid-afternoon munchies hit, I started a deep-clean of the kitchen to avoid idle eating. Unfortunately, my medication is not especially designed to keep me from doing certain things I do--like cleaning clockwise. This particular cleaning style led me to clean the refrigerator first--from top to bottom. On top of the refrigerator, I keep the candy--from Halloween, from Easter, from Valentines, from Sunday School parties, and from Christmas. Every time I opened the freezer, it rained candy. Something had to be done.
And it was thus I found myself seated on the living room floor with all of 2012's leftover, sugar-laden treasure. I put the chocolate in one ziplock, the lollipops in another, followed by the tootsie rolls, the Startbursts, the taffy, and the hard candy. They were all so appetizing--so organized. The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by wrappers. I wish I could say that I was a black-out eater, but with crystal clarity, I remember the Heath Bar, and the Twix, and the Milky Way, and the Hershey Kiss, and the Gummy eyeball.
So, on the first day of the year, I was a casualty of candy. Unlike failures of the past however, I did not let one (or seven or eight, who's counting wrappers?) ruin my entire day. We ate dinner out, and I cut my meal in half and brought part of it home. I rationed out my evening snack.
2013 will be a series of battles that culminates in a war of the will. Yesterday, I may have been a casualty of candy, but today, the candy is safely secluded in a box atop the refrigerator that I CANNOT see through. Yesterday, it was Candy-1, Sarah-0. Today I intend to even the score.