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What Happens at Chuck E. Cheese Does Not Stay at Chuck E. Cheese

Saturday, March 26, 2016

I am not Catholic, so I do not make confessions in a phone booth-looking box through a dryer vent-looking screen to a man in a robe. No offense to anyone who does, as we all have our own beliefs and practices, but I tend to confess via a more direct line, and believe me when I tell you that I had a good, long talk with God last night about my caloric indiscretions on Good Friday. Now, I shall have a good, long talk with y'all, as Spark works as well as a confessional as it does as a locker room for pep talks.

Good Friday is really an ironically named day, as it wasn't such a good Friday for our Savior, and it wasn't such a good Friday for my waistline yesterday either. Allow me to explain in my best Oprah (with my arm wings flapping as I do):
"This is the JOY for me.
I LOVE fooddddd.
I loooove food.
I now just manage it, so..."

Wait! No I don't, at least not ALL the time. Case in point:
Pizza (several varieties in several slices, all topped with piles of parm)
Alleged Salad (basically lettuce slathered in ranch dressing and parmesan)
Apple-cinammon Dessert Pizza (with nary-an-actual apple and oozing with icing)
Chicken Jerky
Lucky Charms Cereal Bar
Easter Sugar Cookies (giant eggs and chicks covered in pink sugar)
Nilla Wafers
V8 Splash (at least it was the diet kind)
Turkey Hotdogs
Fluff Bread (with actual butter)
Caramel Chocolate Mint Ice Cream (the Splenda doesn't make up for the rest of it)
Marie Calendar's Berry Pie
More Chicken Jerky
Oyster Crackers
Coffee, Coffee, and more Coffee (with creamer, creamer, and more creamer)
Chocolate Egg filled with Mini M&Ms

This was what my Good Friday was made of, and I did NOT manage it. My weigh-ins are not until Wednesdays, but after that food fiasco, I had to step on the scale this morning just to see the damaged I'd done in the presence of a six-foot walking mouse and some creepy animatronics. I won't repeat what that British lady voice said to me this a.m., as I prefer not to speak in expletives, but the G-rated version was basically: "You did freaking WHAT in the name of a family outing!?!??!?! You fatty! How dare you!? Do you even REMEMBER that you wanted to hit your goal weight by April? You're gonna be bigger than that boulder at the tomb if you keep this up!"

Why am I telling all of you this? Simple: Confession is good for the waistline. I am relatively certain that all of you out there have had a cheat day...or, as was the case for me yesterday, the equivalent of a Chernobyl accident in calorie counts. I did not even record everything on Spark because I lost track, but if I were guesstimating, I likely ate well over 2,500 calories yesterday, most of it in the form of pizza, cookies, ice cream and other such evils. My sister, who has her weigh-ins on Saturdays and was with me at Chuck E. Fats yesterday, exposed to that horrible buffet, wasn't happy with her gain today, nor was my daughter. My sis accurately surmised, "Pizza is Satan." It is, and sometimes, the temptation is just too great, even on Good Friday.

So what do I do? Do I give up just because I ate enough yesterday to feed a Third World country for a month? Do I go visit a phone booth and talk to the guy in the bathrobe: "It has been 3,000 calories since my last confession..." Do I grab that bag of sorta-fat clothes out of my trunk, the ones I was gonna donate to Goodwill? Do I torture myself by not allowing myself anything but kale and water for the next month? No. Here is what I do...

I make a concerted effort to recall how I feel right now, back at the weight I was clear back in November. Then, tomorrow, when I give my kiddo that big ol' basket of evil things made of marshmallows and peanut butter and chocolate and jelly and nougat, I snatch a piece or two from it. Why? Because the day my weight loss journey becomes a DIEt that keeps me from living is the day I will begin to resent it, and on that day, I will give up and rebel and end up looking like Orca the Easter Whale by next April.

DISCLAIMER: I am NOT telling you to go eat 3,000 calories at a pizza buffet. I am NOT telling you to eat 35 Cadbury Creme Eggs tomorrow. I am NOT telling you it is okay to drown your lettuce in 500 calories of ranch dressing and a mound of parmesan. I AM telling you that it is okay to let go once in a while, just as you occasionally let go of other responsibilities like work (you DO take vacations and weekends, right?). I AM telling you that if you let go too much, you CAN get back on track. Unfortunately, what happens in Chuck E. Cheese does not stay in Chuck E. Cheese, but you CAN correct any SNAFU (situation nearly all fatted up) if you decide that you will get back on track once the hungry, hungry holidays are over.

Everybunny is capable of cracking up once in a while, peeps, but allow me to egg you on. Don't let good or bad Fridays make you a basket case! Just tell yourself you're a pretty hot chick and hop back onboard, and you will eventually resurrect that weight loss you've worked so hard for!
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