So bad yet so good

French fries. One more beer. Shoes and jeans and trips to Alaska, Turkey and Chile within weeks of each other. Boys with angelic faces, devilish grins and a trail of broken hearts. So bad yet so good.

There’s cake in the kitchen at work. A big, beautiful Twinkie-tasting sheet cake and it is, or rather was, a whole sheet. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your perspective, only 10 of us showed up for the bimonthly birthday blowout (read: cake, ice cream and soda) in the medium conference room. Ten people. Out of 45. To eat a whole, friggin’ sheet cake.

I don’t even like cake.

Nevertheless, I ate a piece. An unhealthily huge (at least, bigger than my fist) edge piece with loads of icing and a dollop of butter pecan ice cream. Again, I don’t even like cake, but why let that stop me?

Later, despite an overly full stomach and a raging sugar high, I found myself cruising the kitchen considering another piece. Three times. For the love of all things holy, why?! (Note: I didn't actually eat more cake. I just thought about it enough to leave my office, walk to the kitchen and look at it.)

My obsession with cake made me think of Sex and the City and the episode where Miranda dug the last piece of chocolate cake out of the trash. She knew it was wrong.

“Your good friend has just taken a piece of cake out of the garbage and eaten it. You will probably need this information when you check me into the Betty Crocker Clinic.”

She knew she shouldn’t eat it – that’s why it was in the trash – but even the trashcan didn’t prove a strong enough deterrent. It happened in Seinfeld, with George and the éclair, and I've got to admit – I have been there, working late, starving and thinking about a sub in the trash.

“It’s wrapped in paper... And plastic… And really there’s only paper in that trashcan. It’s not like it’s dirty or anything... It’s just veggies… And it’s wrapped in paper… And plastic.”

Scary, scary thoughts.

Obviously, the trash is not enough. Some things just need to be ruined.

Years ago, my friend Melanie, a disciple of the good doctor, Atkins, ordered a burger and a side salad. Somehow, she ended up with fries. She ate the meat, the pile of lettuce and proceeded to demolish the bun and fries. Vinegar. An entire shaker of salt. Ketchup. Mustard. Sugar.

I think she might have added Sweet and Low, but by that point I had stopped watching. (I actually cowered a little behind the drink menu in light of her maniacal and methodical removal of temptation.) I was simultaneously impressed and revolted.

Most of the time, I try to avoid extremes. Eat what I want, within reason. Drink what I want, within reason. I moved from the 'burbs, in part, to make exercise a part of my daily life. (Even on a bad day, I have to walk at least a mile for work.)

Granted, I’ve yo-yoed from a size 14 to a size four and back again and am currently somewhere in the middle. I have been addicted to the treadmill and addicted to Little Debbie’s snack cakes. Simultaneously, for a while. (One let me enjoy the other.)

These days, I just want balance. I like how I look. I like eating what I want. I think that cutting anything out entirely will just make me want it more. It's true of food. It's true of travel and things and boys with bad reputations.

I have figured out how to eat in moderation. I have figured out how to balance my budget and prioritize the things and trips and experiences I want. I haven't quite figured out the boys but I'm working on it. Maybe I can find my own vinegar, salt and sugar combination.

Then, again, maybe every once in a while, it’s okay to indulge.


Tag: Moderation Indulging Cake Self control