The young Moe’s employee glanced up at me as she plopped a bag of chips next to my lunch salad, one I’d carefully crafted with just enough toppings of Weight Watcher’s points to stay on target for the day. “Would you like free queso with your chips? I put one in the bag already.”
“No, I shouldn’t.” As she reached in to remove it from the bag, I said. “Free?”
“Yup. Queso is free on Thursday.”
Who knew? Not me. “I really shou–you know, just go ahead stick that back in.”
Just a taste. That’s all I wanted. My plan was to eat a few of the chips with a tablespoon or two of queso. No fowl, no harm. Right?
The second I got inside my kitchen, I tore open the chip bag, removed a few, and yanked the lid off the queso. Creamy, cheesy, a hint of spice. Everything I’d dreamed about on the drive home. A few chips turned into a few more. And a few more. It finally tore myself away to eat my salad at the table, far from the peninsula, where the queso and chips remained. Certainly the delicious salad would fill me, keep me away from unneeded cheesy treat.
But you know what happened?
I ate about half the salad and returned to the queso. With each queso-dipped chip, I’d say inside my head, This is the last one, but it wasn’t. My conscious nagged at me, but I didn’t stop. Finally, at along last, I committed to the end and removed my last two chips. Without hesitation, I picked up the rest of them, quickly walked to the trash can, and dumped the remainder into the garbage. To make them super-unappealing, I squashed them down.
With a heavy sigh, I turned back to the last two chips. I gobbled down the first. The last chip beckoned and I picked it up. Determined to get a memorable amount of queso, I lifted the cup from the counter. Just as I dipped in the chip, the cup slipped from my hand. A hefty glob of the creamy mixture lifted into the air. I watched in horror (I swear it was in slow motion!) as it splashed on the counter, the front of my shirt, and all over the kitchen floor.
For a moment, I didn’t move. No more last taste. 😦 Why? Was it a larger sign? Maybe the ghost of Weight Watcher’s future paying me a visit, perhaps more worried about my Saturday weigh-in than I was.
But I had to wonder if there was a lesson here? Pigs get fat, hogs get slaughtered comes to mind.
My friend, Terri, suggested a whole different approach when she said to me, “I’d have gone and gotten another, just to show Fates who’s boss.” I got a good laugh over that one, but my queso eating day was over.
Instead, I will grapple with a little over-eater’s remorse and consider how I can make a low WW point dinner to salvage the rest of my day. And here’s a message to whatever universal force stopped me from that last bite: Gimmie a break… I was ready to stop eating it on my own. Any minute now…
Willpower isn’t my strong suit. What about you? Any hints on how to draw strength and walk away eating from something you love?
Sharon Struth writes books about life, love & a little bit more…Check out her latest release, The Sweet Life, at her website.