The Cupcake Pothole

BlogHer Original Post

Cross Posted At Megan's Minute.

Most of you know I'm on a nutritional yellow brick road to my own version of the Emerald City. Namely a healthier body and a Bebe trench coat.

I hired a nutritionist, I'm on a very sensible and livable eating plan and I'm committed to progressing one step at a time.

Along the way I've skipped happily past several milestones: the loss of twelve pounds, the satisfying feeling of walking at least fifteen blocks twice a week, a better balance of nutritional meals throughout my day, and the loosening of those denims that were starting to get a little too tight.

I've also hit some bumps. Like the night I found out about the serious illness of a family friend and ate seven 100 calorie packs of crackers. Or the night I had to deal with one too many disgustingly happy couples and ate cold steamed dumplings straight out of the fridge followed by a large bag of potato chips.

But I've also had several lovely moments in the fast lane. Like when I called my nutritionist the day after the dumpling incident and asked her to give me a pep talk to tide me over the weekend. She did, and it worked.

Hands down though, my favorite moment was the day a co-worker was moving on to a new job. Word went out through the office that there were Buttercup Bake Shop cupcakes in her office for any and all who wanted them.

Buttercup Bake Shop cupcakes! Oh my God, I love Buttercup cupcakes!

I hesitated briefly, but I had to go see them. Saying goodbye to my co-worker was a distant afterthought.

When I arrived at my co-worker's office there were boxes of assorted cupcakes everywhere. It was like a cocktail party except instead of beautiful, festive drinks, there were the beautiful, festive cupcakes. There were the pastel colored, vanilla cupcakes, the rich, German chocolate cupcakes, and the gorgeous, red velvet cupcakes. People were either munching on luscious, sugar coated confections, saying goodbye to my co-worker or both.

Oh my. Even though I could feel myself slipping, I went over to the boxes and admired the delicate treats with the dainty crowns of icing. I inhaled the sweet hint of their sugary perfume and imagined biting into one. Hmmmm.

Then an amazing thing happened. Slowly, dispassionately and with the detachment of someone who didn't have my eating issues, I turned away. I wasn't going to have one.

I knew I could have one if I wanted, and reassured myself I will have one again in my lifetime. Just not now. It was my choice, and I had chosen to decline.

With a backward glance at the cupcakes, I wished my co-worker well and returned to my own office.

I had bypassed the cupcake pothole and continued on my way. I felt proud, satisfied and extremely pleased with myself.

"I control the cupcake," I thought with a laugh. "The cupcake does not control me."

Later on at home, I wrote that line on an index card and left it on my kitchen counter. It's still there because that day, "I controlled the cupcake. The cupcake did not control me."