One of my co workers is an amazing cook. I mean, she is really too notch. This is a woman who can make boring beef stew an event that children of future generations sing songs about. She is also a pretty damned good baker as well. I know these to be facts because I was her willing sampler for many a cake, egg roll or soup.
Today, there was a birthday in the office. And my friend, ever eager to please, created a magnificent carrot cake that would make Ladies Home Journal stop and take notice. She told me that she would be making this cake for the birthday girl a few days ago. I put it out of my mind. These days talk of sweets has started to sound like Charlie Brown's teacher; indistinguishable garble. I ventured down the hall today, forgetting about birthdays and carrot cakes, to ask a question of some sort. As I opened the door, I could see it. It was almost as if it was standing on tip toes from across the room, to make sure I could see it, in all of its cream cheese and coconut frosting glory. Not that it needed to stand on tip toes since it stood about as tall as a toddler.
Now, in my old life of just over 5 months ago, my feet would have barely touched the floor on my way to get the biggest plate for the biggest piece to put in my big mouth. My heart would be racing in anticipation of becoming one with this sugary beast. My mouth, watering to taste something that really would have skipped right over my taste buds since I probably wouldn't have even chewed it. Five months ago, the cake would have won and I would have suffered with guilt, a headache and nausea.
Today, I barely made eye contact with this Ladies Home Journal cream cheesed and coconut frostiness piece of art, even though I could feel it staring me down. It was trying to break me. Clearly, it had no idea of the army I now have backing me up. I took note of the enormous pieces on all the plates, but I really just wasn't interested. I didn't even mourn the loss of that rush I once revelled in. At first, I thought something more powerful than my desire to devour that entire cake had taken over and guided me out of the moment. Then I realized, it didn't guide me out of the moment at all. The truth was in the whole five minutes I was in that office, I did not once even have the desire to take a bite. It didn't guide me out of the moment because I was never "in it" in the first place.
When I started program, I never truly believed I would even gain abstinence. But when I did actually consider it may happen, I had this Hollywood idea of how things would be. I felt there may be some sort of glow in the dark epinphany punctuated by some slogan or self- righteous lecture to the pitiful person who dared to offer me one of my trigger foods. But, it didn't happen that way. I was there, the cake was there. Then I left. It was really rather simple and quite uneventful. I left without a headache, without nausea and without guilt. In fact, once that door was closed I didn't even think of it again. I won. And it felt good.
