Once a cheater, always a cheater
As I write this, my fingers are leaving greasy little Chick-fil-A stains on the keys. After four days of having no appetite whatsoever, I treated myself to a little fast food.
Now, I have no doubt that my influenza diet will compensate for this little indiscretion. However, my little lunchtime excursion proves something I already knew about myself: I have no ability to moderate my actions.
Joe can go to Burger King and pick out a 400 calorie meal. He can order the junior Whopper with no cheese. He can get the side salad.
I'm like the alcoholic. I can't just have one drink. I can't go to the fast food joint and not have the worst possible thing on the menu, the exact thing I want at that exact moment.
For right now, I am not going to feel too bad. I haven't had fried chicken in weeks. Plus, I guarantee you I have lost weight just in coughing alone this week. But I am also going to reaffirm my resolve and say that fast food has to be out of my life forever.