…and started a friggin’ food diary. This is my penance for last week’s gluttonous pity party filled with onion dip, cannolis, bruschetta, and bacon double cheeseburgers. Today I ate 2000 calories, drank 8 glasses of water, pushed the dog walk to 2 miles instead of 1, and smoked about a pack of cigarettes.
The saddest moment was when I threw away the last half of the beautiful loaf of Italian bread from this weekend’s bruschetta frenzy. I loved that loaf. We really had something special. I mean, I have deep feelings for the 100% wheat, but we just don’t have the same spark that the crusty Italian and I had. I’ll miss you, Italian Bread. And every time I walk past you in the Bakery section, I’ll have to start singing that Dionne Warwick tune under my breath, “Make believe that you don’t see the tears, just let me grieve in private…”
I know we’ll be together again someday, but I just need some time to purge myself of your carbohydrate high. Maybe someday I’ll be able to have just one slice of you, but until that day comes, I have to cut you out of my life. I’m sorry it had to end this way. I had the best of intentions.
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