"None of that lard-coated caca for me, thanks!"

RE: The Title: That was a postcard my mom sent me when I was in college (about 4 years ago), and has been placed firmly on every refrigerator I've ever had since.

An interesting change has occurred in my eating mentality lately. When I think about ice cream, or cheese cake, or even cheese (oh God, how I LOVE cheese), my brain immediately says to me, "You can't have that!" It's gone beyond the point of rationalizing with myself, having that conversation that goes something along the lines of, "Well you COULD have just one Swedish Fish, but will it really be just one? And honestly, what good will just ONE Swedish Fish do? Far more bad than good, I can assure you." At which point I stop staring at the Swedish Fish in the office kitchen, and grab myself a bottle of water.

But recently, that conversation hasn't been happening that much (except for the Swedish Fish. Because it really could be so easy to just take one). Now, I've just gotten it into my head that eating something bad for me is simply not allowed, and might potentially cause me bodily harm. So, when I stare down that sausage pizza that was just delivered to the office, the diet-master inside my head (who, oddly, sounds a lot like my mother) just says, "No."

And believe it or not, I listen...for now....