I've Fallen . . . And I Can't Get Up

I've fallen off the wagon, rolled through the mud, and landed in the gutter.

I was doing well---not saintly, not even great,but well---on my semi-detox. I had made it through the dark days of withdrawal and, despite great temptations all around me, was avoiding caffeine, refined sugar, refined carbs, bad fats---in other words, my four favorite food groups. I had strayed on occasion, but I found my way back to the straight and narrow path of wholesome goodness.

Then . . . two days before I was to leave for Christmas "vacation," I caved. It started with a bagel. And then a chocolate candy. And another. And a couple of butter cookies.

But I still had the vision of me trussed into a bridesmaid dress like satin-clad ham to keep me from giving in to sugar lust.

Once, I was through with the dresses, though, the flood gates opened. The cookies flowed in, followed soon after by the best red velvet cake I've ever had (a sample of the wedding cake) and my weight in shrimp. There were Utz ripple chips and homemade onion dip---an irresistable combination. Waffles. And the pumpkin roll. Oh, the pumpkin roll.

By Monday night, I hit what I thought was rock bottom: McDonald's. Those golden arches glowed like the gates of heaven to a weary and tired traveler who knew she was returning to an empty fridge.

But, lo, it got worse. On Tuesday, I awoke with a fluish cold. And unlike most people, being sick does nothing to abate my appetite. Rather, I use it as an excuse to immerse myself in comfort foods. You're supposed to feed a cold, right? Hence why yesterday's dinner consisted of clearance-sale Christmas candy and Hagen Daaz chocolate chocolate chip ice cream with chocolate sauce.

On the upside: I scheduled my first personal training session for January 4. Might as well make the trainer earn her money, right?