Exotic yet ordinary

The plan for Friday was to eat light. That's more or less the plan every day, but it was most especially true for Friday since I would likely be stuffing myself with an unhealthy amount of yummy comida Mexicana at Santa Fe's that evening. I knew the morning would be easy enough to muddle through. It was the afternoon that would be a bit trixie. And, sure enough, the first half of my day passed without incident. I ate my usual breakfast of sweet cream cheese stuffed pretzel (you can order Schwan's from Amazon.com?! Really? What's that all about?) and was even on my game at lunch. I had a baked potato and a spicy chicken salad. Chicken also courtesy of Schwan's.

So, after lunch, I went back to work encouraged that I could actually make it through the afternoon's festivities withOUT giving in to the cake (delicioso!) that would be not calling but screaming my name the duration of the Volunteer's Ceremony. I was comfortably full and I reckoned I could put enough distance between me and the cake to make it through the presentation of certificates without too much difficulty. And I had a Dana (my friend at work that Chris is convinced does not actually exist) who had generously offered to talk me down should I start to drift toward the snack table.

And then, a co-worker happened. A co-worker and the ridiculously unnecessary incident she caused. An aggrevating incident that made me angry enough to spit. But instead, I had a piece of that damn cake (hey, I'm a stress eater) with Dana's blessing since she had witnessed the incident, too, and, hey, that's what imaginary friends are for. I'm sure that medium slice of comfort had enough calories for an entire meal. Or two. But, it made me happy for a little while, I suppose. I'll just have to get better about not eating angry.

My debauchery continued that evening at Santa Fe's. Try as I might, I just could not bring myself to verbalize the word salad. So, while everyone else was feasting on their enchiladas con mole, I tucked into a ginormous chicken chimichanga. Ole!

First thing this morning I stepped on the scales to assess the damage. Nada. Zip. Zero. Zilch. NO change to my weight. Those ten pounds I lost? Yeah, they were still lost. If I can stay away from farkin' co-workers and delectable restaurants, I may just make my goal for April. Fantastico!