Casualty of Candy

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.