Dogged by doughnuts

If Nancy Reagan were here, I'm sure she would say, "Just say no to that doughnut!"

I mean, really, it's just a piece of fried dough. In John Steinbeck's book, The Grapes of Wrath, when the Joad family was starving, they fried flour in lard just to subsist. As I read those references to fried dough as a meal I was appalled. And sickened.

But, there I was, looking at that fried piece of flour and I was contemplating it just the same. One of my sisters had left a Tim Horton's chocolate glazed doughnut in a cute little bag in my dad's hospital room yesterday and it was all I could think about after a particularly grueling day that started with a 7 a.m. pre-admission testing appointment for rotator cuff surgery that I do not want, followed by a long day at work without a break, a doctor's appointment for Annie that was a bit frustrating because of the doctor, then a less-than-uplifting visit with my dad at the hospital that he did not want to be in.

It is 370 steps from the parking garage to my dad's hospital room - I know - I counted them - every single one of them. And every day I twice pass Tim Horton's in the hospital lobby. I have eaten more doughnuts in the last month than I have eaten in 10 years. These hospital visits are tiring, frustrating, long-lasting and I know that when I get home I will face a Christmas tree that is still up and decorated, mounds of laundry to do and dinner to prepare for my family. So, of late, I've looked at these little doughnuts as a treat.

But who am I kidding - they are not a treat for me, they don't make me feel good despite their sweetness and they make those 370 steps (one way) an even longer, heavier walk. And yet, why did the presence of that little fried piece of dough cause my mind to go haywire? Because it was temptation, my friends. All of a sudden I felt that I might just know how Eve felt in the Garden of Eden. It looked good, why shouldn't I eat it?

Was that one doughnut going to kill me? Well, not instantly. But with each bite of the fried flour before last night, I felt my self esteem wane, my hopes for a healthy lifestyle became again unreachable and the self-flogging for my unhealthy eating began again.

As I left the hospital last night, I took that cute little doughnut bag, with every intention to eat its contents on the way home. But, in a surprise move, I instead  tossed that nasty little life stealer right into the trash just as I passed Tim Horton's on the way to the parking garage. Take that, you tempting Canadian fast-food tease.

Somehow this small decision has been a motivator for me. I CAN say no to the fried dough. And it didn't make me sad one bit. I even smiled on the way home. And kept my hand out of the cookie jar all night.