That was me, falling off the sugar-free wagon last night.
I had an errand to run before I went to my Tuesday-night volunteer duty at the prison, and ended up with a little time on my hands, so I went to find the June issue of O, which Beth recommended.
This is the 'body' issue, with cover blurbs like "Body Bliss: Feel great in your own skin" and "How not to look fat in a bathing suit" and "Oprah's Aha Moment: Fighting the mashed potato wars."
Why I thought adding a small package of caramel creams to that particular purchase was a good idea, I'll never know.
To my credit, I didn't finish them. In fact, I wrapped the remaining ones in the grocery bag and buried the offensive little parcel in the garbage at the end of the driveway, awaiting this morning's pick-up. So they didn't even make it onto the property. [Somehow that makes me feel better.]
The bad parts, though, are:
- They were sugar.
- I ate them in the car.
- I really let myself down.
To end on a good note, the new furniture came yesterday and our living room suddenly looks so grown-up! It's a little overcrowded at the moment; we intend to get rid of the television in that room. Until we do there's the new black coffee table and the old wooden one with the television/DVD player/satellite box on it. But we'll take care of that soon enough. As you know, I sometimes have a hard time thinking of myself as a middle-aged woman. But when you have burgundy leather grown-up furniture, you just can't help yourself.