Cookie Monster

Cookie Monster

What is it about a cookie that paralyzes me? As if eating a single cookie will put another 3 pounds on my hips. I stare at the cookie, thinking to myself… “Don’t do it, you don’t need it.”

“Okay, I will take a bite, but I will only eat half of the cookie.” I am afraid if I start eating the cookie, I won’t be able to stop. Then it will be 2 cookies, 3 cookies, a slice of pizza, then the whole pizza…and I won’t just stop with the cookie, I will then eat the right arm of the person next to me because I will find myself unable to stop.

The more I try to control myself, the more the cookie controls me, my thoughts, my ability to concentrate on anything else. Somehow this cookie has started to represent something MUCH bigger… if I am able to control myself, that makes me good. I have earned my gold star for the day.

Yet somehow the cycle doesn’t end, because I will find something else to struggle with….to judge myself with because I have not achieved perfection. Today its the cookie, tomorrow the mistake I made at work or the thing I said but shouldn’t have said because it made me sound less than intelligent.

Why are we so hard on ourselves? I don’t remember hearing any men complaining that they look fat in those pants… or that they are a failure because the couldn’t control themselves from drinking 6 beers and inhaling a bag of Doritos while watching the game.

Tired of second guessing myself, controlling what I eat, judging what I say, obsessing about what outfit I am going to wear. I want to eat the cookie when I want, wear what I want, say what I want, without the cookie monster standing over my shoulder.