After being on vacation for nearly two weeks, I went back to work this afternoon. Guess what was waiting in the break room:
That’s right: Ice cream … and all the fixin’s for sundaes or floats.
Now, even before the Boyfriend’s cake was gone, I was doing pretty well at giving up carbs. I did have a small sliver a couple of nights after I got to his place — but after a few days, it didn’t even smell good.
Today, in the face of a freezer full of ice cream and tables full of toppings, I didn’t succumb to temptation. Truth be told, I wasn’t even all that tempted.
Did I complain a little that I was snacking on salad while everyone else ate ice cream? Okay, yes.
Did I look longingly at the the bowls full of ice cream and stuff my coworkers carried past my desk? Maybe just a little.
I admit I might have felt just a wee bit deprived. But did I wander into the break room to check out the spread while the ice cream was being dished out? No.
Did I sneak some later, from the leftovers for the night crew (of which I am technically part)? Nope.
There was a time, not so long ago, when I’d have probably done both: Had some in the afternoon and gone back for more later. And I’d have tried to tell myself it was okay, because it’s fine to eat anything in moderation — even though we all know two bowls full of ice cream in no way resembles moderation.
In other news, I also ignored the chips and salsa up for grabs in the newsroom. That’s a welcome change from the times I graze on such things all afternoon and into the night.
And that, for me, is the magic of low-carb dieting. It gives me the willpower to just say no. And if I don’t take that first bite, I won’t be tempted to go back for seconds … or thirds … or fourths.
It’s just the way I’m wired, I guess.