For the past few years, it has been my goal to get down to a healthy weight. From the beginning, things happened that ended up distracting me. Getting married, moving three times, and then getting pregnant. Now that I have a tiny person to think about, I want to be healthy for her too. So I’ve decided to write about my weight loss. Maybe this will help keep me accountable? Maybe it will help encourage other new moms in their weight loss journey? Or maybe it will just give me the opportunity to share stories like the one I’m about to tell.
What better way to begin my story of being healthy then to tell about the day I ate 24 cookies? However, before I get to the stuffing-my-face part, let me set the scene of another incident. It was years ago around springtime, a few months after said cookie massacre. I was in church and there was a Super Cute Boy visiting that day. I mean so cute you get distracted during the sermon because you are wondering if he is staring at the back of your head, cute. (What? Those kinds of things distract me.) We are all in Sunday School together. And by we I mean me and my two sisters and brother (my mother is a super woman, and had all four of us in five years).
Well in walks Super Cute Boy. Everyone is chattering away, and things are going great. I mean I’m flashing him cute smiles, and pulling out my best hair flipping abilities. All of the sudden, one of my siblings (I can’t remember which. I think I blocked it from my memory) calls out:
Hey Katie! Why don’t you tell him about that time you ate all of those cookies?!
My stomach drops, and I’m fairly certain I was mid hair flip. I just stare at my sibling wondering why on earth they decided to bring up that story now, in front of Super Cute Boy?? Couldn’t they tell how much I was trying to play it cool in front of him?!
I believe I started to mumble something about not understanding what they meant. Everyone chimed in about how I should tell him, and then I looked up and saw Super Cute Boy smiling at me, encouraging me with that gorgeous mouth of his. How was I going to disappoint Super Cute Boy?? So I laughed and told him this story:
I was alone in the house, and I was starving. I opened the fridge and, behold, two packages of those break and bake cookies greeted me. I love cookies, but I’m a big sucker for cookie dough.( I found a site on Pinterest recently, showing how to make egg-less cookie dough. I’m avoiding clicking on that on purpose.) I grab the packages and noticed both were already open, and each had 12 cookies left. 12 chocolate chip, and 12 peanut butter. So I take a couple from each, thinking no one would miss them, or even notice they were gone. (Have I mentioned I’m an emotional eater? Or that I was by myself and lonely?)
So back in the kitchen I go, open up the fridge, take a few more out. I do this a couple of times, and then I’m back in the kitchen grabbing the packages and realizing there were only 4 cookies left!! What could I do?? No one would notice a couple missing, but someone would definitely notice 20! So I did the only logical thing, I ate the other 4, and disposed of the evidence.
My family came home and no one seemed to notice the missing treats. It was a Sunday, so my parents needed to take me and my sister back to our dorm. We pile in the car and my dad stops at Sonic to get us all ice cream. Now at this point I am so sick to my stomach. The last thing I want is a cup full of ice cream. I politely decline. Dad keeps pushing.
No dad, really I’m okay, it doesn’t sound good right now.
My dad is so sweet. He knew how much I was concerned about my weight at the time. So he tells me
Katie, you are beautiful just the way you are. One treat won’t hurt you. I’m buying you the ice cream and I’m going to make sure you eat it.
How could I say no to that? So I get the dessert, and try to force down as much as I can. To this day I’m still impressed that I didn’t vomit all over my dad’s car.
Saturday comes along, and my mom and I are grocery shopping. We walk by the cookies, and I casually tell her I think we need more. She informs me that no, we still have some at home. I repeat myself, probably sounding a little guilty this time because she turns and looks at me and asks
How many did you eat Kathryn?
I weighed my options, and decided to be honest. We stare at each other for a moment, and then start laughing. Later when we got home of course we retold the story.
So that’s what happened the day I hate 24 cookies. Moral of the story? It’s not a good idea to eat that many cookies at once. Although,just maybe, you’ll meet a Super Cute Boy like I did, and he’ll want to hear the whole story. Maybe he’ll think it was so funny and honest of you to tell it, that it will pique his interest. Maybe one year later from telling that story to Super Cute Boy, you’ll be on your honeymoon together.
Or maybe that just worked for me 😉