By Friday of this past week I would have given my left arm to have SOME sort of junk food. Anything. I was so desperate I thought that smelling certain foods would satisfy my cravings. I was wrong. It was 8 pm on Friday, I had 4 hours to go until it was officially Saturday and I could indulge in, at this point, anything I wanted. A friend gave me a bag of chocolate as a thank you for helping her with a school project, and I decided that since I hadn't had any coffee that day it would be okay to have just one piece of it. Mistake. It says right on the bag "WARNING: HABIT-FORMING", and that wasn't a lie. It was the most delicious chocolate I have ever had in my entire life. I will admit, I was worried for a lot of things; my sanity, my lifestyle change, the progress I had made thus far which was being threatened to be ruined by that one piece of candy. But I distracted myself by watching House with roomie, and falling asleep on the couch by 10 pm. We awoke to the starting menu of the DVD and I check the time: 1 am. I shout "IT'S OFFICIALLY SATURDAY!!!!", eat 3 pieces of chocolate, and go to bed.
Saturday morning roomie and I head to the Americas. Now, normally when I go to the states I buy junk food, junk food, and more junk food. Like every kind of junk food you can think of. Every. Kind. This trip I was pretty good, with the exception of a bag of chips. 90% of the reason I bought this bag of chips was because it had a zip-loc seal to seal the bag when you were done snacking (I guess some people don't eat the entire bag in one sitting?), which I thought was brilliant and all chip bags should have that. The other 10% was because they were 'loaded baked potato' flavor. Like it was ever a question as to whether I was going to buy them or not. I am so excited for this zip-loc contraption that I rip open the bag...incorrectly. I've ruined it and cannot use the zip-loc. Oh, there's the tab that says "Pull Here". Why does America have to be so much more advanced than Canada?
Fast forward to the evening when I'm mere minutes away from ordering the long-awaited burger. Yes, all week I've had this evening planned and anticipated the pub burger that, because it was a Saturday, I was allowed to eat. All I've talked about is having a burger. Every conversation I've had all week I've somehow incorporated that I was going to eat a burger on Saturday. I didn't know what kind or what it was going to have on it, all I knew was that my tummy was going to have beef in it. And probably not extra lean beef. AND bacon. REAL bacon. The waitress arrives at our table:
Waitress: Can I get anyone anything to drink?
A: Can I add bacon to it?
Waitress: Sure...fries or salad?
A: Is that a real question?
Aside from the chicken caesar salad ordered by someone, I was the only one at our table that ordered food. I'm not exactly sure what I would have done had the kitchen been closed, or they weren't offering food because Lillix was playing that night, or they had run out of beef. I imagine it would have looked very similar to how Sheldon off The Big Bang Theory reacts when something doesn't go his way. Like the time I went to Red Robin and was told they switched to Coca-Cola products and no longer served Dr. Pepper. I'm not okay with it.
My burger was amazing. It had a lot of my most favorite things ever on it: guacamole, banana peppers, bacon, cheese...I could have eaten 6 of them. But I stopped at 1 and anticipated my 4 km walk home with rommie once the bar closed. This walk would justify the burger.
It's 1 am and approximately -45 degrees outside. Roomie and I are prepared with scarves and gloves and boots and drunken happiness that we are sure will make this walk seem like 15 minutes long instead of an hour. It takes us less than an hour, and this makes us super walkers.
Hi there, Sunday, and thank you, Momma, for preparing a BBQ steak dinner, complete with baked potatoes, crab cakes, broccoli salad, and melty cheese dip appy's. She's my #1 supporter. I wore my "thanksgiving pants" ('Friends' reference for those of you who live under a rock), and ate until I literally could not swallow one more bite. I went to bed a happy little girl last night.
Now it's Monday (is there any way tomorrow might be Friday?) and as I packed my lunch this morning, a single tear rolled down my cheek at the contents. I should teach a course on self-discipline.