Yes, I Cut in Front of You...

I must be a really demented person to get some kind of sick joy out of cutting people (legitimately) in line.

Take today for lunch. I am trying to make a lifestyle change (we don't call it a diet in these parts...) but I am also sick for the umpteenth day in a row and had no interest in eating either a frozen lean cuisine or the barley and sausage gruel I brought from home for the 3rd day in a row. What I wanted was a yummy, tasty, hot Philly cheesteak and fresh cut fries fried in trans-fat free peanut oil.

And I know just the place to get it, 4 minutes away by car. Mmmmm......except...they don't publish their nutritional numbers online. My SparkPeople has a problem with this. Not to mention the fact that looking at the amount of sodium in fast food usually curbs the craving just enough for me to resign myself with settling down with the frozen dinner and a People mag.

However, I noticed a nice little kid's meal at the bottom of the menu: "mini" sandwich, smaller than a small fries. PERFECT! I called in my order for a mini grilled artichoke and provolone sandwich with no mayo, add mushrooms, tomatoes, banana peppers, and spicy mustard. I figure that cut about 627 calories by not getting a steak, right? My answer: 10 minutes.

Yum. I walk in 10 minutes later to a line out the door. All the soccer moms with their gaggle of kids out of school for some reason give me the mean eye as I waltz past them. I know they are whispering "is she really cutting us in line?" to each other, but none of them have the balls to say it to my face. Second step, bypassing the herd of healthcare workers with their "free sub" coupons that are just as obese as me and definitely NOT ordering kid size anything to park my behind under the "pick-up orders pay here" sign.

I can feel the healthcare ladies closing ranks behind me, trying to inch closer like they are definitely NOT letting me anywhere near that register before they get their sandwiches. Meanwhile I can see my tiny sub on the back counter, ready to go. So I kindly wait for a break, inform one of the only two people working this busy lunch rush that I'm there for my pick-up order, pay before ANY of those chicks, and walk out happy.

Sorry, ladies, you just got smoked. Next time, call ahead.

Does it count if I'm only doing it for the pie?

My weight loss has hit a snag. I'm happy that I am now 5 lbs under my pre-pregnancy weight, but at 225lbs I still have 50lbs to go, and I've been stuck here for over three weeks.

I'm pretty certain that I could actually drop 5 pounds in just a short week or two. I have granola bars and yogurt that I could do for breakfast every morening instead of 3 out of the 5 (what can I say, in the South we have a biscuit obsession). I also have salad dressing in the fridge that will expire if I don't put it to good use. It is blue cheese, but I'm certain that 'good use' would not constitute an order of extra hot buffalo wings. What I should be doing is walking to the Lowe's Foods a quarter of a mile across the parking lot and hitting up their salad bar every day for a month.

I should also stick to all of the "rules" I've set for myself regarding my beverage intake: plain coffee in the morning with a little cream and Splenda instead of Starbucks, McCafe, or the local coffee shop downtown. I've been good about my water intake lately...hitting my 1 1/2 liters before I can have that afternoon soda, and I usually continue that good practice at home. But who am I kidding...the snack size Heath and Twix calling out to me from the drawer directly behind my back right now are more than making up for any extra soda I use to have.

All of these sound like good ideas, I'm sure we all agree. What you don't know, however, is that my motivation is really not what it should be. What I should be working towards is improved health, self-esteem, and well-being. I should have the big moments of my son's life pictured along with the drive to want to be there for them. Or at the very least, I should be picturing a swimsuit that is NOT last summer's maternity suit to wear on vacation this year.

What I am working towards, however, is called the Chocolate Mousse Cake, and it is available at the greek boys' deli down the road. Three beautiful layers of decadence...white chocolate ganache on top of milk chocolate mousse on top of the richest dark chocolate torte you could sink your teeth into. It was my weekly splurge during pregnancy (don't judge...I probably gained 10 extra pounds but stayed reasonably sane, and I contribute both of those to the cake). I got one so often in the third trimester that when I visited the deli for the first time three months after giving birth, as soon as I walked in the door, Greek Boy number one smiled and said "chocolate mousse cake?"

Post pregnancy, I've been fairly good. Since returning to work (I was down about 25 lbs of the 35 I've lost totally) I promised myself I could have one every time I hit a 5lb mark. So, I've only had 3 in three months. Not bad. But now it's been a month since my last one, and I am craving it like a junkie craving crack. And I know crash dieting is bad, especially when my goal is probably about 600 calories of indulgence. But I WANT THAT CAKE.

And I think I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get it.

(Even if that means letting the rest of those cookies that are leftover from our work event last week go to waste.)