Just like so many other middle-aged grandmothers, I am one of those women who wants to keep on going strong. I want to keep on dancing like a maniac, keep on challenging my neighbor, Greg, to a sprint down the street in bare feet on a moment's notice, keep on answering the phone, "Good evening and welcome to Bed, Bath and Far Beyond; how may I help you," when the caller ID says it's my husband on the other end of the phone, or "Good evening and welcome to the Rest Home for Hormonally Challenged Crazy Women," when it's my sister-in-law calling.
A few weeks back, and because I sell Arbonne (and should try their new products before talking them up to others), I tried their 7-day detox/herbal cleanse. During this detox, it is recommended that one not drink alcohol, smoke cigarettes, tell jokes, wear makeup or the color pink. I did the cleanse and will say that the herbal concoction actually tasted like a dry sherry (without the alcoholic content), so I enjoyed drinking this safe cocktail every morning, imagining I was on some cruise in a faraway land, doing whatever and drinking whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. My boss, on the other hand, thought it was awful and said she will never do that again as long as she lives. I've signed up for the once-a-month program myself.
Along with the cleanse, I watched what I ate and exercised like I've never exercised before (which isn't saying much). I felt great and lost five pounds in a month, bringing me back to a pleasant 126 pounds for my 5'9" frame.
Determined to keep up the good work, I continued on my smaller portions at meal times and only snacked during the day on fresh fruit and/or vegetables. I didn't eat anything after dinner but, instead, would have a cup of green decaffeinated tea.
Wednesday evening, I had a dear friend over for dinner and made fresh salmon rubbed with delicious herbs, red potatoes which I drizzled butter and rosemary over, and a fresh garden salad. It was wonderful. Normally, one portion would have done it for me, but with my friend there and all, I went back for seconds (large seconds, that is). She did the same, which only helped to validate that it was ok to get more.
Next day, on my way home from work, I stopped at the pharmacy to pick up shampoo and a few other sundry items. While in line, my eyes fell upon a beautifully wrapped package of Cadbury's Caramello chocolate bar. I have never been one for chocolate, but the eating frenzy I began the previous night turned me into someone different. I picked that thing up, turned it this way and that, and plopped it onto the counter with the rest of my items.
When the cashier finished ringing everything up and began to bag, I swiftly scooped up the candy bar and unwrapped the top. I took one little bite. "Oh wow," I said, leaning against the counter as I handed her the cash. "Give me just a minute here. Oh my goodness. That...is....so....good."
Breathless, I straightened up, took my change, and somehow made it back to the car. When I got home, I handed the remainder of the candy bar over to my daughter, telling her I didn't know what came over me but to please not let me see that thing again. She happily obliged.
Copyright 2008 liamsgrandma
