I never indulge in sweets. Wine? Sure. Beer? Yep. Cookies? No!
Sound familiar? Please say yes! It’s funny. We’ll drink a few bottles of wine with some friends on a weekend, munch down on a gallon of butter-soaked popcorn, in a crowded theatre in the dark, and go to dinner parties and put all those insecurities aside. We act like it’s the last supper and we’ve never seen a piece of food in our lives, grabbing handfuls of popcorn so large the pieces spill out both sides of our month. A few fell on the ground. Screw it. Stay focused. Someone will clean it up.
Are you serious? We have to be either in the dark, with people we don’t know and/or care about in order to let ourselves overindulge from time to time?
I’m curious. Why are we ashamed to let ourselves enjoy a cookie without having to split it with someone? Or just take a nibble because “we really shouldn’t.” That’s such a girl move. My husband can eat an entire package of cookies, smack his lips, sit back and stare proudly at his accomplishment. Is there a crumb of guilt? The only crumb I’ve seen is what’s left along his lap and the floor for our dog to pick up.
Why can’t I be like that? Sure, he has the metabolism of gymnast, but guys don’t think about that kind of stuff. In a way, I admire it. There are bigger things to worry about in life.
Frankly, I’m trying to be over that. Not to say that I am going to start buying stock in Nabisco, but it kinda erks me to know that I bust my butt a few days a week in the gym (after work) even when I don’t feel like so that I can stay healthy. I don’t have children – but dear God, how you women work, raise kiddies and still manage to hit the gym…I commend you. You’re amazing.
I’m healthy, active and very conscious of what I put into my body. I don’t smoke, I don’t do drugs. I DO drink. But that doesn’t count. That is medicinal mental liquor. It keeps me balanced.
Guilt. Anger. A vicious cycle. Why? This is exactly what I felt as I happened to stop by a bakery today with a friend for lunch. The place is known for its desserts. You don’t come here for their gourmet salads. When I was checking out, I noticed a large sign, strapped across the smudged window that read: Life’s Short. Eat a Cookie.
And I could feel a smile cover my face, followed by a little hesitation. Then I thought, are you kidding me? This is ridiculous. Who am I really answering to other than myself? And I happily ordered a gourmet peanut butter buckeye bar. It was heaven in a doily.
So, let’s eat the cookie. Life’s short, freakin’ eat the cookie.