The Power of the Scone

Ok, here we go. This is officially day one of my challenge. So far, so good. I guess really the only progress I have made is what I have not done, which is eat anything with sweeteners in it. The other goals are more action-oriented. I will work on those throughout the week and report them as I do. You all will hold me accountable, right? As if I have any readers yet. I'll get there. I hope.

There is something you must know about me that may explain my goal of nixing the artificial sweeteners. I, Kate, have a very combative relationship with sweets. I also happen to work for the biggest cookie company in the  United States. Maybe even the world. This is not a good combination, because I also have this rare condition where I have almost a sixth sense. I hear what others do not.  That decadent coconut chocolate chunk oatmeal cookie at the local French bakery... it talks to me. Says my name. Taunts me. Every morsel of chocolate in that damn thing is perfectly aware that even mere eye contact with one of them will draw me in like Barney Stinson to a strip club.

Hence why I am trying to manipulate my brain by at least starting with cutting out the artificial sweets. For now, I can indulge a bit in sweets. But can I change my habits? Can I keep the arm from reaching out from my stomach, through my esophagus, and out to snatch a red velvet whoopie pie sample from the tray at Kroger? Is there a way to control this obnoxious extra limb that seemingly has its own brain?

We all start somewhere.

Currently, I sit unfortunately close to a dripping glazed orange scone at Panera. Half eaten by the boyfriend, who is glued to his computer studying T-critical values for a stats class in his grad program, it has become an afterthought to him. Meanwhile, it has learned my name and the coaxing has begun. I feel "the arm" in my stomach stirring. I know my goal for the week is to stay away only from artificial sweeteners, but can I quiet the chatter and say "no"? Is it really that difficult?

Apparently, yes. The arm reached. It grabbed. Hand went to mouth. Scone ingested.

Sigh. At least I'm still officially on track for my goals.