Secret Cookies and the Wicked Guilt Monster

I clutched the bags of cookies, trying to cover them with my hands. I stood in the cafeteria, scanning to make sure no one I knew was around before jumping in line. Suddenly, she appeared out of nowhere.

"Hello, Margaret. How are you doing today?" She glanced at the cookies in my hands.

"Fine. Just fine." I said, not even bothering to shift them behind my back. "You know. Busy."

She smiled. "Nice to see you." She glanced at the cookies again and then walked away, leaving me with the knowledge that I had a witness to my food crimes.

This is what happens when you make your healthy lifestyle public. A partner at the firm you work for catches you with cookies and makes a mental note. Since our encounter I have been wondering if she will keep my secret safe. Or is she secretly plotting her revenge? After all, she is on the heavier side and I assume all heavy people hate me for losing the weight, much as I hated skinny people before I lost the weight. So I began to imagine future conversations. Here is one of them.

She walks into my cube and says, "Well hello Margaret."

"Hello Ms. Partner."

"I hope you are having a nice day. I need your help with something."

"Well, I'm really rather busy right now. I'm trying to meet a deadline."

She cocks her head to the side and studies me before leaning in to whisper, "Remember the cookies?"

I gulp. "What cookies?"

"You know what cookies." She blinks. "I saw you with the cookies and if you don't help me, I will tell your boss."

I see my boss approaching at a distance. "Not that. Anything but that." I say. "You know I lecture him constantly about eating unhealthy foods. If he finds out..."

She casually hands me a stack of papers. "I need copies. Lots of copies."

This is how I feel every time I eat something unhealthy. I feel like people are watching and waiting. And even when no one catches me, I feel the guilt like a noose around my neck. It seems silly, really, but I've made a terrible habit of sneaking food for years. The sad thing is, it was never really a big secret.

My affinity for sweets is like a hurricane, a force of nature not to be reckoned with. I would never claim to have a handle on my addiction. It would be like saying I learned to breathe underwater. Just. Not. Possible.

Today I had a conversation with a friend. She is under significant pressure to lose weight. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, "I know the right foods to eat. I know how to lose weight. I just can't." My heart was like a cinder, smoldering in my chest. I know exactly how she feels. Some days I really don't understand how I lost the weight, especially after I've inhaled 4 giant cookies, a bag of popcorn, two bowls of ice cream and a box of raisins. And that was only yesterday.

This morning I crawled from bed, sick in body and in heart. I hadn't worked out in two days because I am fighting a third round of virus. This certainly is the winter of my discontent! But I rose from my warm covers, pulled on my workout clothes and took my buddy Tank for a walk. Tank is a young boxer and he has a lot of energy. The great thing about walking with him is that he get so excited that it rubs off on me. So within a block he coaxed me into jogging and soon we were huffing and puffing away down the streets of Ferguson. I can't say I was particularly thrilled. The weight of each cookie resonated in each footfall as I mentally whipped myself for caving to my flesh. My cadence sounded something like, "Stupid cookies! Stupid cookies! Stupid cookies!" All I can do is shake my head and begin again. Again.

Guilt is a sick and powerful feeling and yet a wonderful motivator. But I can't let it rule me. There comes a time when I have to accept that I am sometimes completely powerless over my desire for sugar. I have to accept it and move forward. But the reason I don't give up--don't give in forever--is that I love my life. I love hiking with my children at the park and not growing tired. We did that Saturday. I love running up and down the stairs at work. I love fitting into size 12 clothing, a size I thought I would never fit into. I love encouraging people who think losing weight is impossible. And it's not because I'm a super, crazy, health freak and I only eat Brussels sprouts and lima beans. No, it's because I intimately understand the struggle. I wage war against my body every day. Some days my body wins. Some days my will to keep the fat off wins. But no matter which way the teeter totter swings, I know who I am. I am imperfect. I am human. Fat or thin, I am Margaret, and I am loved! And that's all that really matters.