I long to smell it's tasty aroma, to run my fingers along it's crisp, hard crust. I want to bring it to my lips and lick the drops of grease that fall from the tip of the slice as I pull it free from the cramped box that has been keeping it hot and ready for me. I don't even need to swallow. I just want to lick it and feel the heat in my mouth, no matter how bad the roof of my mouth will be burnt afterwards. I want it in me... if only for a moment.
After 30 days of the P90X exercise plan and I lost 7.6 lbs. Apparently the weight loss came from the part of the brain that controls common sense. I'd made a deal with myself. If I lost 10 lbs. after the first month I was allowed a cheeseburger. Close but no cheeseburger. I blame The Biggest Loser for my unrealistic weight loss expectations. If Two-Ton Tony can drop 13 lbs. in a week, surely I could drop 10 in a month. No such luck. However, I do have the luxury of being able to look down and still see my toes, something Two-Ton Tony doesn't.
I have now taken to asking my friends about the cheeseburger they had for lunch and wanting descriptive details about the garnishing on said cheeseburger. I dream about cheeseburgers while my steamed chicken, veggies and rice heat up in the community kitchenette at work. My new fantasies include me, Channing Tatum and a large cheese pizza with a side order of Little Caesar's cheese bread that I eat off his naked torso. Yup, I've lost it. My brain is going through High-Fructose Corn Syrup withdrawal symptoms.
As much as I want a cheeseburger, a slice of pizza or a frappuccino I know that anyone one of those items is enough to cancel out an entire workout session. I am not sweating through an entire hour of that sadistic fitness "expert" just to throw it away, no matter how delicious that melty cheese would feel in my mouth. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some cheesebread to go think about...
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