The Cravings Werewolf

I freely admit that I have zero willpower. I know I'm supposed to make better decisions about what I eat but I wouldn't weigh 403 lbs if that were easy for me to do. I'm like an alcoholic except it's cookies or candy that get me. I can always justify it to myself as if it were no big deal. If there are cookies in the breakroom, I will grab one. Usually two. I'll go back for another three. Oh there's only 5 left? May as well polish those off. They're all gone? Awesome :) I can't eat any more! Seriously - you wouldn't believe how hard I work to convince myself that it's all ok.

Until I weigh myself.

And then I'm cruel, mean, I call myself every form of stupid. I feel terrible. I'm a failure. I'm not even able to say no to a lifeless cookie. How will I ever be able to protect my kids if the zombies come?

My mental contortions in either direction would astound most people. Most people who just see a cookie and it means nothing to them. I've actually seen people who say no with a laugh to a cookie. As though such a thing were possible. As though they didn't immediately have a dark raging werewolf growl in the back of their throat, somewhere near their most ancient brain, that we *need* that cookie. That it's there, it's ours, and we need to eat it now because at some time in the not too distant future, WINTER IS COMING.

What I need you to understand is that I'm NOT at all hungry. I can actually be full to the point of pain and still WANT THE COOKIE.

I don't even know where I get this stuff. But there is a part of me that somehow still thinks I'm going to end up having to live off this bodyfat for a few months in a cave. It's the only explanation I can think of for why my brain is working against me ever being healthy.

People will tell you it's not my body. Its my choice. And I'm here to tell you that no - it was my choice to wear this shirt today. It was my choice to drink my Plexus and eat an apple for breakfast. Choices I made and felt good about. But it was NOT my choice to need the cookies in the breakroom - 5 of them - my choice was nope, I don't need that. Some other very weak part of my conscious said 'take one, one won't hurt! You'll do better tomorrow.... when they're not there anymore....'

But something else will be. And my werewolf - the voracious always starving for sugar, crazy intelligent part of my brain that can talk me into anything - will convince me again that just one won't hurt.

Until I weigh myself.

Don't tell me 'just don't eat it' or 'just say no' or 'you know better' - of course I do. Just like an alcoholic or a cigarette smoker or a drug addict knows better. We know. It's not as though we're stupid. It's just that the little voice, the voice that convinces us, it's apparently smarter.