powdery blue bellies
They have this creepy little mantra at my Sunday meetings. At some point during each session, my arguably-fabulous-and-pizzazzed group leader always tells us, “with Weight Watchers, you can overeat, but you can never overeat comfortably again.”
But they don’t know about my blue pills. My *special* week pills. The pills that defy all logic, stand down any lecturing, disbelieve all mantras, and don’t give a damn about any progress before them.
I really did try.
Everything that comes out of the kitchen here is a god-awful disgrace to culinary practices. It’s a stretch to even call it edible. Large meetings where goodies are served pose few threats to my willpower. They’re plastic-y. They’re stale.
… They are most certainly NOT the steaming fresh-baked pastries that came up yesterday on a silver tray aligned with fresh strawberries and a smell… an aroma… that you could run off with and live a blissful coexistence alongside for ever and ever.
Did I mention the pastry-cheese filling?
I’ve talked myself out of many-a-brownies in recent weeks. Gooey baked cookies. Ice cream. Even licks of fat-free Tasti-D. It’s fleeting pleasure, I tell myself. Sixty seconds and it’s gone, and all you have left is guilt and a nagging ache for more.
But I didn’t expect the smell to seep into me with such vigor. They tapped my dissolved blue pills on the shoulder and said, “I’ve got just what you’re looking for right here, baby.” I knew I needed a plan, and decided the best thing would be sit still. Pay attention to the droning meeting. Let the others at them. And as the pastry-stuffed herds went for seconds and thirds, remarking at the unexpected sumptuousness of this clearly accidental delve of the kitchen into recipes (!) with quality ingredients (!), I knew I could count on my coworkers to empty the tray’s contents before I could successfully break down my own willpower.
But when the room emptied, there was one left.
One 1 inch by 1.5 inch square.
Oozing, to be precise.
Announcing the scent of bakeries. Of buttery creams. Of nothing-could-possibly-go-wrong-here. A place that could not be further from or more opposed to this grim meeting room.
And yes, it was gee-yummy.
I’m a big fan of choosing wisely. I care not for jellybeans, sugary cereals, packaged cookies, candy bars. Non-Krispy Kremes seem a wasted effort. I won’t sully my fresh coffee’s good name with sugar substitutes, but I will put less in it. I’m a food snob – it runs in my family – and this thing, this craftily tucked pastry square – it made the grade. So why did I feel so awful?
I looked it up – just three points! Not wonderful, but absolutely manageable. So why weren’t my blue pills happy? Satisfied? Lying back in a sugar-induced haze, gurgling at the ceiling, and rubbing their powdery blue bellies?
I think the creepy mantra people are finally winning.
This week I have the optional green pills. Worse than the blue pills for me because my body decides to hold on to every single calorie, regardless of the controlled diet and working out regime. Not at all encouraging. A whole damn week where nothing happens.
I really don't understand what you are talking about. I'm sorry, I'm blonde. Are the blue pills a metaphor for something? Do they pass them out at your meetings? And optional green pills? Help!!!
2 | foodsux | September 24, 2004 02:37 PM
I was talking about birth control pill-induced hormonal flux. I always have insane cravings on certain weeks. It gets ugly.
As I read this I'm chowing on a bag of dark chocolate covered pretzels. I fought a long drawn out battle of wills with my better judgment and my better judgment lost. And I'm still on the white pills. No excuse. Why are sweet things so tasty? sigh.
Try to take some E, you won't be hungry during that time but need a lot of chewing gum.
5 | pascalo | September 24, 2004 05:06 PM
Blue pills ... somehow, that doesn't sound very appealing. I swear by stevia. It's a natural herb that comes in powder form that's 10x sweeter than suger. No calories. And get this, it's actually good for you.
6 | Laura | September 24, 2004 08:12 PM
Nice to meet a fellow food snob. My grandmother was a kosher caterer and I think I inherited her food snobbery. My bologna sandwiches must be made on the freshest white bread with nothing on them but Heinz's finest ketchup (I will NEVER use Hunts, the presidential campaign be damned!!) Tuna casserole with real cheese and white tuna fillets. And I only use fresh ground chuck in my Cheeseburger Macaroni Hamburger Helper. Hamburger? Bah!
8 | London | September 25, 2004 11:05 AM
No! Smitten bad! Those creepy mitten things also have smitten.com, clearly my rightful URL. Harrumph!
Just saw this and thought you might find it amusing. If you've been sent this link a million times before, I apologise.
I'm starting to feel under attack by the smittens.biz people. Two comments and an email! Just this weekend. They're coming for me, I can feel it...
Do not let the creepy mantra people win. Next thing you know you'll be spouting the propaganda: "Substitute water for chocolate mousse," and the like...
You already know how I feel about this!
But you made a good decision, you could have eaten 10... it's all about good decisions! I've been reading your blog for a year now and was so excited when you joined WW - as it's a breath of fresh air to hear someone with a personality talk about it... my leader (of a Thursday morning meeting with 30 old ladies who don't know or care how many points in a glass of wine or a marguerita, I mean really?!) suggests carrying a lemon in your handbag as (apparently) a sniff of the lemon will take the smell of the pastry/chocolatey/savoury goodness away...but really for the amount of times I'm tempted I will a very large handbag. Thanks, and keep on keeping on! Good work smitten :)
13 | Neighbour of the Beast | September 27, 2004 02:18 AM