The day started off great.  I had a kid that was eager to get out of bed and go to school and I had a new, firm resolve to follow the new eating plan I had put together the night before.  The sun was shining and I felt okay enough about myself to put on another short sleeved shirt to wear to work instead of resorting to a button up with long sleeves.  The sun was shining and the mountains looked spectacular and I was just ready to take on the world.  If I could have lifted my ass into the air I would have clicked my heels together.  It was that kind of day.

The boy and I got the dog out for a nice walk before we drove to school and we were excited to get a morning poop out of the dog.  Hooray!  (Okay, I know that sounds completely disgusting and strange but if you’ve never had a new dog that you weren’t sure if they were going to shit all over your nice furniture while you were at work, you probably wouldn’t understand how awesome of an achievement this was.)  We prepped the house for leaving the dog for the day (closing all doors, making sure all toys and shoes were put away) and headed out the door to see what the world had in store for us.  I think I was actually whistling.  I hardly ever have whistling days.  It should have been a sign.

After dropping my child off to before school care I rushed to the nearby lake to get in a quick walk before I headed into work.  Sometimes not my favorite activity to participate in,  I knew that on that particular day it would be heavenly, if not actually fun, to pump my arms and legs and breathe  in the sweet morning air—as long as I stayed away from the areas frequented by geese, of course (another reference to animal shit?  I don’t think this story is going where I thought it was going).

Just before I got to the lake, the little indicator light signaling that I was going to have to get gas flashed on.  I can usually get a good 25 more miles before I have to really worry about getting more gas but I knew that I was going to have to go to a meeting on the other side of town at another one of the library branches later that day.  The walk was going to have to wait.  I glanced longingly at the lake as I drove by and made my way to the gas station.

Of course I had to pick a day when every fucking human in my neighborhood was getting gas.  I somehow (probably because it’s my “thing”) got in the line behind people moving slower than molasses with vehicles that had 1000 gallon gas tanks to fill.  My leg started to shake and I started to sigh in frustration so much that I had to roll down my window for fear of getting carbon dioxide poisoning. After what felt like a good hour I finally got my gas and I was getting back on track.  However, the gas station I frequent is attached to a fairly large grocery store and I decided to take my remaining minutes to run in and get a healthy snack to eat on the way to my meeting later.  I immediately felt calmer.

I grabbed one of the grocery baskets (no way I was going to need anything bigger than that) and headed to the produce section.  Wonderful bursts of color greeted me and I started to grab all of my favorites—grapes, bananas, oranges, raspberries—and realized I was probably going a little overboard.  I put some of my goodies back and decided just to take a quick look over in the deli section.  I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get a little protein in my diet, so I went to see if there were any pieces of baked chicken to take with me to work.  I was kind of bummed to see that there wasn’t any baked chicken out, but there were breaded chicken pieces covered in hot wing sauce.  Those were probably just as good for me, right? (Ha.  Ha-ha.  I knew what was up.  It’s laughably easy how I can play dumb and delude myself.)

Score!  I put the chicken in the basket and started back to the front of the store.  Wait.  The sale items are just back there.  I still have a little time.  So I rushed back to the sales items to see what goodies they had for me.  Lots of day old bread and cherry pies, but those didn’t interest me.  I started to leave when I noticed a box of fancy doughnuts, just sitting there partially hidden under a box of cookies, waving at me and calling my name.  Awww, aren’t they adorable?  I haven’t brought anything in to my co-workers for a while—I’m gonna take those.

I was surprised to notice that my basket was already full and I had to hold the doughnuts in my other hand.   Hmm, okay no biggie, I’m on my way out, it shouldn’t be a problem.  I headed back through the produce section when I noticed that someone had just put out some new yogurt fruit parfaits out on the shelf.  My mouth literally started to water.  Did I take a second to talk myself out of what I know was the very last thing I need to put in my basket?  Uh, don’t you know me by now?  Hell no.  I grabbed that fucker and smashed it on top of my bananas.

I managed to get to the checkout line without too much damage (although I would like to say sorry to the poor flower in the floral department that got mangled between my leg and the basket) and high-tailed it out of there.  Seventeen dollars and five minutes late to work later, I put my groceries away in the staff fridge.  I hadn’t actually eaten anything yet so I was still good with my eating plan and, all things considered (and given my personality) I was still feeling pretty good.

After a slow morning of cleaning the turtle tank and planning library programs for the next month I talked myself into having a little treat.  I hadn’t had any breakfast yet (dumb, I know) and I could still hear the doughnuts calling for me from the break room. This is the point that I should have had my Cheerios like a good little girl.  This is where I should have taken out my parfait and maybe had a bite or two and then went on my merry.  (You have GOT to know where this is going.)

I wasn’t stressed.  I wasn’t even particularly hungry.  I wasn’t bored, I had plenty to do.  I just lost my shit.  Plain and simple.  I grabbed the huge chocolate sprinkled doughnut with the little bit of more frosting and…well, I’m not going to get graphic, but you have to know there was Barry White music playing in the background.  The whole experience was over in about twenty seconds (I swear I hardly remember it) and I felt dirty.  Fat and dirty.  So I immediately ate another one.  I couldn’t feel any more fat and dirty if I had another one, right? (My logic is flawless.)  I swear that the library needs to invest in shackles.  I would need them at least once a day.

Still too knee deep in my sugar rush to really feel bad about screwing up my eating plan I finished up my morning and got ready for lunch.  Really?  Lunch?  Well, kind of, because I did have to get my ass to the other library and quick and I did just buy some food for the occasion.  I grabbed the chicken and the yogurt parfait and got in the car.  Let’s just skip the details on this one and say that I was fed and the car remained relatively clean.  I was off the food plan by a lot but I was now at an official stopping point.  Hooray! Feeling full and satisfied I went to my meeting.

I was very happy to see that there weren’t any snacks to taunt me during the meeting and that I would be safe from myself, at least food-wise, for a good two to three hours.  My mood was back up again and I was among some of my closest work friends.  We talked and conspired and told jokes and I was in a very good place.  I didn’t even want to go out into the hallway and tape the kid that was running back and forth outside of our meeting room to the wall.  Zen.  That’s the word.  I was probably a little too Zen, though, because I started to fall asleep sitting up.  Eating enough food to get ready for hibernation will do that to a bear, uh, I mean, a girl.

Did I ever mention that the library I was visiting is our largest branch and has its own little café inside?  Well it does.  This wouldn’t be such a big deal because I wasn’t hungry and I didn’t have any money anyway, but, guess what (I know you already did) they like to give library staff any food that isn’t sold within a certain time period.  Luckily the café is relatively health conscious and the food does not consist of nachos and hot dogs.  But they do have salads and sandwiches and they are dee-licious!  On my way to my car I went to say hello to some of my besties working the back of the house and I, stupidly, detoured by the staff break room.  With its refrigerator piled high with sandwiches.  I think my stomach lurched.

But, I grabbed a chicken sandwich to go.  Don’t ask me why I did it because I have no fucking idea.  It was there and I needed to have it.  Kind of like being a kid at a friend’s party and just needing to have the party bag, even though the chances of there being something you really want inside are probably pretty slim.  My day of work was done and I was ready to go back to my side of town and see my kid.   My body started to wake up, knowing that I was soon going to have my bubba with me.  My mood shifted yet again and I was alert and ready to go.

He was cranky (of course he was) and was being a whiny shit and I was ready to banish him to his room for the rest of the night.  The hubby was still working via phone and wasn’t available to help me take care of the kid or help with dinner.  I was a freaking time bomb.  I needed to focus.  I needed to do something to bring my anger down.  Guess where I ended up?  I put my head in the fridge, the pantry, the freezer, the spice cabinet.  I looked and looked and looked and finally found—nothing.  I wanted nothing.  I needed nothing.  I went downstairs and got on my treadmill.

I turned on an episode of Glee and I walked.  I made it. I didn’t eat one thing in that kitchen and I was pleased to know that I had some control left in my body.  The boys ended up having to take care of themselves that night and I got to spend time with myself.  It was lovely.  I ended the day feeling like I had won in life, even though it was very far from reality.  But, I took my “victory” where I could get it (even if it was only in my head).  That day ended up being pretty nice and the next was only going to be better.  And it was.  Until I realized that I left the fucking chicken salad sandwich inside of my car all night.  Damn it!