I habitually walk by the ‘break room’ and cast a reflexive glance as I pass, to see what offering there in lies. And most days of the week, there are homemade cookies, synthetic neon-iced cakes, chips, cheese dips, donuts by the dozen–often brought in by the cheerful 94 pound co-worker, who “just can’t seem to gain weight” because “it just falls off” and these treats “will just go bad” at her house — stick with me, sister, and we could get you up to a size 14 in a flash!)
While I enjoy 2-6 desserts a day, most of these crusty break room ‘treats’ I would NEVER even consider—like last week’s cold dried up pizza.
But there is something about that chance discovery, like a baby who finds a deliciously shiny penny, that makes these less-than-delicious items find a way down my throat.
Every Monday I vow to start anew. After a ravenous wedding weekend, or a raucous bachelorette party (“Can you believe we ate that entire meat lovers pizza ‘late night’ that we found in that alley?”) or a vacation with family and our banquet-sized breakfasts, “this Monday, I’ll get back in my routine and eat only plant products, or cut out chocolate, or all desserts; I’ll eliminate fried foods or snacks, or I’ll drink 2 glasses of water before I eat anything, or I’ll write down everything I eat to keep track or I’ll try those diet pills Sarah mentioned worked for her, or I’ll drink Green tea, or I’ll ….”
Then damn it! if Monday isn’t the surprise office party for Jeff …”Congratulations on your Gastric By-pass!” Let’s all celebrate with chocolate cupcakes topped with gummy worms signifying Jeff’s resected bowels and cookies as big as a human face. (Thank you, Panera Bread, for making delicious cookies the size of steering-wheels!)
Then come home to find it’s the Monday night Block Party Barbeque and Rachel’s making her famous bacon, sour cream, mayonnaise, cheese and adipose dip.
Seriously?! It’s like I can’t escape. Bad-for-me-food is everywhere. And it’s hard to be good.