It's not in here

A few days ago, I taped a big sign to the refrigerator door that reads "It's not in here." The sign is large and bold, and it catches my eye the moment I walk in the kitchen. Since I put that sign up, I haven't had a binge. Granted, that was only Monday, but given my track record lately, I'm pretty happy. There have been moments, especially in the evenings when I'm packing snacks for the following day, that I've wanted to get out the cereal and yogurt and go to town. "It's not in here" has stopped me, time and time again.

Delaying gratification is something I've never been good at. I'm an only child, and although I'd like to think I wasn't a brat growing up (some may disagree), I will be the first to admit I was spoiled. I'm not trying to blame my parents for my problems, but I do think this played a role in my present eating dilemma. When there's something delicious to eat in my general vicinity (like today someone brought PIE to work- dammit), it's a constant argument between two selves. The rational part of me says it's not the last pie that will ever cross my path. The primal, instinctual part of me kicks in and tells me I must inhale said pie until the pie is no more. Whichever "self" wins the battle is dependent upon my stress level and whatever else is going on that day.

Today, the pie remained safe from my grasp. Sure, I wanted a piece pretty damn badly, but the rational part of me won. There will be other pies. I can wait.