Today I'm working near Chelsea Market, a sort of gourmet mall that might as well be called Carbohydrate Market. I walked through it on the way in, just because I hadn't been there in a while and wanted to see what was new. I was very proud of myself for not stopping, walking right past the Fat Witch Brownie Company and Big Apple Bagels.
Then, one of my coworkers, being "nice," came back from a break with a box of cookies. And I caved. Immediately. I know I should be proud of myself for only having two (they were small), and for not even really wanting any more during the following two hours while the box was in arms' reach. But instead I feel guilty for falling off the wagon after less than a week. I felt my gut expand with each chocolate chip, the two ounces of sugary goodness putting back the 5 pounds I've already lost.
See, this is why I don't diet. In a lot of ways, I was much better off when I was fat, ignorant, and didn't know what a gym looked like.