So. For nearly 30 years I've stocked-up on groceries and supplies each autumn. We've always lived in snow/ice/blizzard country and I've always hated risking my life just for a sack of groceries, so hence, the stocking-up.
This was the first autumn where I didn't do my huge Organizing Of The Pantry Supply yet this was the autumn I needed to the most because 1.) We now live in the center of, well, Nowheresville, ten miles from the nearest real supermarket (ten miles is a lot when you're talking snowy roads), and 2.) We have only one car (is that inconvenient at times? You betcha. But it saves us tons of money) and Tom drives that aforementioned car to work. Now, when he works night-shift he sleeps during the day so technically I have access to the car, but then we're back to those aforementioned icy roads, so Tom and I go shopping together on his days off on the occasional clear day.
Anyway, I have my excuses as to why I skipped the stocking-up thing, but I'll spare you my whining. Yet here's why I'm most regretting my lack of foresight--always before Tom drives home from work he'll phone and ask me if I need anything from the store and sometimes I'll foolishly say that --yes--I need eggs. Or cat food. Or oatmeal.
Why is that a reckless thing to do? Because Tom will then arrive home with the eggs--and a cherry pie. He'll walk in the door with the cat food--and Hostess cupcakes and a tub of sherbet. He'll come in with the oatmeal--and two candy bars, one box of chocolate truffles, four ding dongs, a bag of Doritos and six Hershey kisses he grabbed from the bowl at work.
For the record, I have no willpower. God created me without one ounce. And so all winter I've been getting rounder and I now resemble one of those nesting dolls, minus the scarf over my head. And those tv doctors and fitness trainers may quip all they want about how it's our own fault that we're fat, but that's not true in my case. Nope. In my case, it's Tom's fault.
Well, I was growing tired of waking up nights feeling all guilty and I was sick of pleading with Tom not to bring home any snacks. I've tried everything over the years (this isn't the first year he's done this). I've tried having him sign contracts, I've forced him to make promises, I've threatened to throw away what he brings home (but even he knows I don't believe in throwing away non-moldy food).
But finally I came upon a plan. I decided to appeal to his spirit of competition and propose that we have a race to see who can lose five pounds first. He liked that idea. Only problem is, we can't decide on what the prize will be. Tom suggested that the winner gets to choose the next four movies we get from Netflix, but I told him, "Hey. If I'm gonna try losing five pounds, the prize had better be something more substantial than that." :) So we're still mulling that over.
And you know? Already it's made a difference. Tom called the other night and said he got his yearly bonus and didn't I want to celebrate with some sherbet or something? (Our problem for years has been that we celebrate with food and with our happy kind of life there is always something to celebrate.) But I told him, "No thanks. Go ahead and get some for yourself, but bring nothing home for me." And that's what he did--he got a little container of sherbet for himself. Ah, all those extra calories on his side of the scale, not mine!
The miracle? I wasn't even tempted this time. I think it was my making a Life Decision. I think it's the fact I'm gonna need to be in great shape to dig my Secret Garden this year. I think it's because I'm turning 50 next month. But mostly? I think it's because God is here with Grace to help me lose the weight for such a time as this and I'm cooperating and leaning on both of them like crazy. Cooperation with God and Grace is a whole lot easier than going it alone.
And yes, if you're wondering, I do need to lose more than five pounds. But I'm thinking that aiming for just five would be a terrific way to start losing possibly more.