I have spent a TON of time writing blog posts this week. Wait, what? Where are they all, you ask? Sitting, half-finished, in my drafts folder. Why? Because I keep wanting to write about all this serious shit, and let’s face it: you probably just want to know that yesterday I had a row and a half of President’s Choice Decadent chocolate chip cookies for lunch.
The best was that when I told my therapist about it, later that day, she completely justified it. Bless her heart. I know she was trying to help, and I think she did, but it just felt so funny to confess to eating like total shit, only to have someone say “TOTALLY FINE. Also? Good for you.”
No! No! Don’t you get it?? I did something BAD. You are supposed to agree with me that it was bad, and help me figure out a way not to do it again, not congratulate me!
I blame it on two of my three kids.
First off, when I’m breastfeeding, I crave sugar. CRAZY amounts of sugar. And yes, I can get over that and replace it with good foods, and I have in the past, but the holidays are fucking awful for people trying to quit sugar. That shit is EVERYWHERE. And I know it’s been a month since the holidays, but once I start, it is so damned hard to stop. So I blame the cravings partly on Baby C, because I have to replace all the calories going out with something. Totally his fault, right?
Secondly, when I’m in a sugar-haze, the best way for me to get over it is to eliminate whatever I’m craving from the house. But guess what? The Teenager likes her snacks. Snacks like Nutella.
That’s right. I said Nutella.
Are you fucking KIDDING me?? I can’t have fucking NUTELLA in the house and not eat it, guys! But what am I supposed to do, deny the Teenager, who works her butt off doing homework (and Instagram and SnapChat) late into the night, one of her favourite treats? Exactly. So it’s her fault, too.
Someone give me more people to blame. Now.