Easter's all done for, but there are still remnants of chocolate and jelly beans all over my house. After three days of Cadbury-egg-related debauchery, ice cream, toddlers and lots of noise, I knew I had to behave today. The blood sugar monitor told me to get with the program. I limped through the day, with numerous appointments and realtor business, bemoaning my candy-less plight. I made it past donuts at the office, every kind of food joy imaginable at Gabe's, then malted milk eggs offered to me by an adorable almost-five-year-old. At day's end, I plopped down into my easy chair at home, exhausted. I wisely snacked on deviled eggs (they're low carb, you know) and a diet drink, then indulged myself in a 15-minute nap. When my eyes opened, there was an Easter basket that had miraculously appeared during my slumber. I resisted for 3 seconds, then scarfed down 4 little chocolate eggs, a handful of jelly beans and the head of a hapless rabbit. And I had been doing so well. It didn't even taste that good, well, except for those Jolly Rancher jelly beans. The ones that ruin your pancreas.
Somewhere, somehow, there's got to be a miracle cure for fatness. I do know people who eat these things and never gain a pound. I don't hate them. I really don't. Well, maybe I do.
No comments:
Post a Comment