A junk food snack attack got me last week. I’m not proud of it, not for a second. Before I succumbed, please believe me when I say that I tried all kinds of tactics to quiet the monster. Distraction, tea, exercise, holding on for an hour, none of it worked.
It was only a small bag, the smallest size available. Before I ripped it open, however, I glanced at the so-called nutrition information. 320 calories for that little bag of crunchy things???!!!! I freaked out! How could I think of eating 320 calories of junk that didn’t even have a hint of chocolate in it?
Well, the past few years of training kicked in. I couldn’t do it, just couldn’t eat the whole bag, but I could eat half of it, while driving, of course.
When I reached the halfway mark, I stowed it behind the driver’s seat, where I couldn’t easily reach it (yes, I was stopped at a traffic light). And then salvation appeared, in the form of a national coffee chain, the one that has chai tea bags and will add some steamed milk to the tea.
Yes, dear, gentle readers, I tossed the crunchies into the trash as I entered the store. And I sipped the tea on the rest of the drive home. The route was the back way, the one that led through hills and parkland, with all the trees in bloom, plus tulips and daffodils.
I rolled down the windows and felt free. So I wasn’t perfect, but a major disaster was averted. Whew!
But, why did I believe so firmly that I needed these crunchies? I had no answer to that when I was firmly entrenched in this, and there’s still no wisdom after several days of pondering.