You may have gathered from previous posts that I am sporadically motivated to “do something” about my weight.
I think about doing something a lot. But just thinking about something doesn’t lead to results.
As the old saying goes, “The road to Hell is paved with good intentions”. In other words, lazy as I am, even I realise that planning to do something has no value if you don’t actually execute the plan.
So, one Tuesday morning recently when I had absolutely nothing else to do, I thought, “Mmm, maybe I should go for a walk/jog”. I always picture myself running, great strides over long distances, usually with surf crashing in the background. But then… nope, doesn’t happen. I start out at a brisk walking pace, then I break into a pathetic little jog, then after about 15 – 20 seconds, it starts getting a little bit uncomfortable, so I stop. Back to walking, and then the whole little cycle starts again.
This particular morning was one of those annoying spring days when early September thinks it’s February. I should’ve been inside doing step-ups on my portable step in front of Larry Emdur. But no, there I was, sweating, outside. I even incorporated a flight of outdoor stairs into my walk/jog. I huffed and puffed up the steps and then jogged down a hill.
I emerged into a quiet suburban shopping strip where the gourmet chocolate shop caught my eye. I stumbled in and breathed in the aroma from the coffee machine. I could feel the blood pumping around my body already – strange, I hadn’t even had a swig yet. Oh, wait, it must’ve been from the exercise. I could feel my upper arms pulsating. My cheeks were red. I’m sure I glowed.
I would normally drink water immediately after such exertion. But the coffee at the local chocolate shop is really good, so I ordered a takeaway. A plate of sample chocolates stood on the glass counter.
“Oooh, what are these?” I enthused.
“White chocolate and raspberry, Dark chocolate and espresso, and our leftover Father’s Day specials; whiskey truffle and beer truffle.
“Please try a sample, but you also get a FREE chocolate with every coffee!” The chocolatier practically whooped with joy. “Go on, just try it, just have a little taste – you won’t regret it, “ she smiled, donning her devil horns and pitchfork.
So the Beer Truffle was my poison that day. I stepped outside the chocolate shop. I opened my little cellophane bag. I didn’t even take the truffle home and save it for Friday Night Fun Zone. I ate it. The whole damn Beery Truffle. Right there on the street. BEEEEEEHR Truffle. It tasted like chocolate – and beer. But not VB, a boutique one, I’m sure. I felt so dirty. I felt like I should have been wearing a little black dress, the sky should’ve been indigo and star-splashed. But there I stood in my running shoes in the bright morning sun. It was all wrong. But it tasted so good.
So what do you think? Is it possible to have your chocolate – and eat it too, if you’re trying to lose weight?
[…] to my senses and realised that, since I hadn’t even gone for so much as a walk since the day I ate a beer truffle at ten in the morning, a sudden mass aerobics class may not be such a good idea, not wanting to have a massive heart […]