…back to reality

I got cocky.  After really making progress in self-examination and realistic accountability, I tricked myself into believing that I could have candy and cookies within my reach.  I even bragged to my hubs that I was so comfortable with my progress, so over fixating on sweets, that I could exercise reason.  I convinced myself that I was over disordered eating.

Well, I was wrong.  So goes my attempt to justify keeping sweets around me as I prepare for bariatric surgery.  Truth is, I’m no where near fixed on that account.  Today I reached out to my hubs for his feedback on this topic.  Oh yes, it was uncomfortable to hear what he had to say.  He tipped his hand a few days ago when I confessed to polishing off the lemon bars I put in the freezer for his dad.  His look was one of genuine surprise.  Why surprise?  My performance of “Oh, I’m doing so well that I can eat *&#% and not obsess over it” was convincing enough that he bought it.  After 34 years of marriage and witnessing my addictive behavior with certain foods, he believed that I was on my way.  I took no pleasure in my deception.

My husband is not my accountability broker.  I asked for his thoughts.  We were in the car headed out for lunch.  I knew that today was the day to put on my “big girl panties” as the saying goes, and toughen up.  I did it.  I steered away from choices that would perpetuate the damned carb cravings that I’m stuck with as a result of my dalliance with danger.  I ate the soup and grazed on salad.  It didn’t kill me.

The game is, once again, afoot!

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