Originally, I had intended to hold off on eliminating dairy until I had firmly gotten into the habit of grabbing the can of black beans off of the shelf instead of a pork chop out of the freezer, but I quickly noticed that I was over compensating for the lack of that certain sense of satiety that meat brings to the plate with a plump little mountain of sour cream or a warm blanket of shredded cheese, often on foods that I would have usually been perfectly content to eat without such caloric accoutrements.
Clearly, I needed to stop before it got out of hand (see number 60). I decided to wait until after my birthday to cut it out from my diet. You know, in case there was ice cream involved. It ended up that there wasn't, but there were three different cakes throughout the day so I really can't complain. But, really, how does that happen? All that cake and no ice cream? Really?
No. Stop. Remember 83. Remember 83. Remember 83.
All was going well for about a day and a half. Then, yesterday, someone made cinnamon rolls. They sat around on the kitchen counter all day, being snatch up one by one. None from me, though. I was strong. Until sometime after dinner when someone decided to settle for just a half of one, leaving just one small, beckoning half left. I crumbled.
Today is a do over.
