Feeling lethargic and depressed, I was seriously eye-balling the huge cookie sandwiches in the bakery case at the grocery store the other night. The middle consisted of about two-and-a-half inches of cream filling. Cream filling....mmmm. It was whispering to me that all it wanted to do was cheer me up if I'd only give it the chance. I felt myself leaning towards it while my daughter, still wearing her soccer practice attire, was handed her free cookie by the nice hairnet guy.
Suddenly I realize somebody's saying something nearby. I jerk my eyes away from my love interest, whipping around with a "Who, me?" attitude. I see that it's one of Q's schoolmate's mothers standing there with her cart and her three kids, cheerfully saying hi. Q and her eldest were in the same kindergarten class three years ago. We (the two moms) were both a lot heavier then.
She looks good. Well, she's in pre-dinner, full-kid mode, so she looks good in a quick-trip-to-the-grocery-store-with-three-kids-to-wrangle kind of way. Neither of us are sporting made-up faces or well-coiffed hair. Still, I am struck by how much skinnier she is than she used to be. Her body's parameters have drastically changed. This is the second, maybe third, time I've seen her looking this way. The first time, I did not know who she was until she spoke to me. Now I recognize her, but my mind again registers how much different she looks. And she looks pretty happy, too. She's got a big smile on her face.
Looking at this woman, my mind's eye jumps from the come-hither creaminess of the cookie sandwich to this newly-skinny-mommy-figure. By seeing her, I see the things the cookie sandwich cannot give me. She is happy. She is healthy. She has energy. You can tell she feels good about herself. That is what is important. This is a freaking sign from gawd, and I know it. The cookie sandwich could not give me those things.
I tell her how great she looks, ask her what her secret is. She tells me she's been exercising a lot. I tell her it's great to see her, take care, see you next time.
There is no way I can count on a second messenger from gawd to intervene were I to, oh I dunno, maybe meander through the snack food aisle. How many gifts from gawd does a girl get in one night? As Q happily munches on her free cookie, I head straight to the checkout lane, with quiet determination and no looking back.
My new mantra while shopping: "Walk away, girl, just walk away."