That’s right, I definitely did not eat a donut today. Even though I really really really wanted to scarf down one of those overly sweet uber-calorie packed glazed donuts. You know the ones with the strawberry frosting on top? Yeah… I can taste it now as I type this and I am perfectly happy blaming this all on you. You know who you are… Oh yeah, your probably sitting there reading this right now LOL’ing because you have visions of donuts floating in my head. So not cool!
You see… this all started yesterday when my friend and coworker told me that our Boss was going to bring in donut’s today as a “thank you” for the awesome Bosses Day gift that we arranged last week. Outwardly I was all “that’s sweet but I’ll pass“, “Don’t they know we are on diets?” and inwardly I was all “YEA YEA YEA YEA“, “Thank the lord all mighty I can have a guilt free donut” and of course, the word Donut was playing on an endless loop to the tune of the cha-cha in my head all night. And morning.
So there I am at six am, half asleep, walking into work in eager anticipation of the donut, trying to justify to myself that two donut’s are better than one, especially if I have a salad for lunch, because veggies cancel out donuts (duh), when I turn the corner to the “party area” and there on the counter are…. no donuts. Zero. Zilch. Nada. WAH WAH WAH….
Once I am fully recovered from the shock of an empty counter and the world has returned to a normal rotational speed, I somehow muster up the strength to ask, without sounding to whiny, where the donuts are. To which I am told by you… yes, you again, that there are no donuts because they probably forgot. UNACCEPTABLE!!! At least that what I scream to myself. To you I say “oh. ok.” Like it’s no big deal or anything, Right? Right!
Now here’s the thing ladies and gentlemen, today is of course Monday and not only did I get to bed late last nigh, like ten thirty pm late, because I’m a helicopter mom and can’t go to bed until after my teenager does, but I also woke up late because I snoozed for just fifteen minutes too long and then, fifteen minutes more. The story of my life. Anyways, my computer insisted that I change my password, seven times, and then locked me out claiming a “security violation” which I think is just some lame excuse to say “it’s Monday and I don’t want to work either bitch” but in any case, I sat there for four hours reading procedural documents. Four hours!
Finally (thank the lord) my password reset is accepted and I can now…. go on my fifteen minute break (WOO HOO)!
Per the usual, another, non donut promising, friend and I strutted our stuff across the street to pickup our mid morning libation of coffee for her and iced tea for me. To add to my already typical case of the Monday’s, this morning I somehow managed to flat-iron my hair, without burning myself, and it looked amazing, until we went outside and it was “misty”. If you have or know someone who has naturally curly hair, when you flat-iron it and then expose it to moisture laden air (no matter how minute the moisture content) it just goes POOF. So now I look like a poodle. Awesome.
The thought did cross my mind that maybe if I don’t touch it, it will dry and somehow, miraculously, not go all Medusa on me. No such luck. After forty years of living with my hair you would think I would know this. Apparently not. At this point I was back on the donut train and all about picking up one… or two, while getting our drinks, in order to stave off the Monday’s for the rest of Monday but then I remembered; I actually like fitting into my jeans. Which I need to wear tomorrow and it helped that there was a hot guy standing behind me clearly staring at my ass. Or so I like to think he was.
Sadly, I returned to work donut-less looking like a crazed lunatic wondering why security wasn’t screaming “VIOLATION” in my direction but more so, I was thinking about the simple fact that I have will power and I should be proud of that. Snort in sarcasm if you want to but it’s true. Now I know realistically that one or even two donuts won’t keep me from my jeans tomorrow but, it will keep me from regretting it later when I’m writing down what I ate throughout the day in my food journal, which is really more of a doodling journal, but hey… it’s a legit attempt to keep myself accountable.
So, in summary, what’s the moral of the story you ask? There is no moral to this story. If you want a strawberry frosted donut just get a strawberry frosted donut and eat the stupid thing. Who cares if it has more calories than you should consume in one meal. It’s good and if it makes you smile and feel better about adulting on a Monday then that, is a successful day adulting.
Until next time!