I knew I shouldn’t have. I know what it does to me. I know that having Cascadian Farms Organic Cinnamon Crunch cereal in the house is too tempting. Something about cereal. I want to eat the whole box, bowl after bowl. So I don’t buy it. But today the boyfriend had cereal on the grocery list, and his brand of choice happens to be the Cascadian Farms Graham Crunch, which is RIGHT NEXT to my crack on the grocery aisle. And it was on sale. Bastards.
I picked up two boxes. I don’t know why. I’m a sucker for a sale. Hook, line, and sinker. But there was something else going on. Some rebelliousness, or boredom, or some other unknown emotion driving me to desire the treat. I originally planned to have leftover slow-cooker pork loin for lunch, but now with cereal… plans change. I get home and carefully measure out not one, but TWO 3/4-cup servings (totaling 54 grams), and pour 120 mL of unsweetened vanilla almond milk atop. If I’m going to do this thing, I’m going to play by the rules. Weigh it. Track it. And then other rules, rules that I just made up. More on that to come.
After wetting each sugar-dusted piece by dunking beneath the almond milk with my spoon, section by glorious section, I let them sit long enough to get just the slightest bit soggy. And then it’s on. Within minutes, the bowl is empty. The rule I just made up is I need to drink 24 fluid ounces of water between bowls. There must be order in this deranged universe. So that means one bowl wasn’t enough. Why can’t one bowl be enough? I drink the water and sit for a bit. Checking feeds, tweeting about my sports bra, trying to keep the cereal out of my head. I look at the empty bowl and empty water bottle and rise from my chair with both in hand, ready for Round 2.
If it’s possible, the second bowl is gone even faster than the first. Everything measured, everything tracked. Maybe if I look at my macronutrient totals it will startle me into stopping. So far today, 23% protein, 19% fat, 59% carbs. Oh that’s not so bad. I was thinking it would be closer to 75% carbs. I start to think about blogging about it. Which is where I pick up here. I start drinking the water again. 24 new fluid ounces. 8 ounces gone. I keep looking at my tracker. Hoping something gels and I can be done.
I’m full, but not satisfied. And this rebellious feeling, WHAT IS THAT?!? I feel like my dog, who is constantly scolded for grabbing the flip flops from just outside the garage door, but still bratty enough to make yet another attempt whenever the door is opened. He knows, but he just can’t help himself. He actually looks like he is thinking twice, but oh hell IT’S A FLIP FLOP HE MUST RUN AWAY WITH IT! No one here is going to be mad at me for eating all the cereal in the house. I’m playing this sad game with myself.
I’m looking at this third-empty bottle of water. Considering my options. Considering the alternatives. I am in control of what I put into my mouth, right? There’s no universal order that demands my submission to the cereal gods, and yet I feel the pull. Forty minutes has passed. I’m staring at this blog entry screen trying to feel my way around and past my urges. The water isn’t gone yet. I’m going to leave with my bowl now, but it’s going to get washed and put away. No more cereal for me today.