Peggy occasionally brings home a pastry.
This is not Peggy’s problem.
I can walk past it knowing I don’t want to be eating that way. I know how I prefer to eat. I know how much better I generally feel when I eat that way.
So I take a bite.
Just one.
Later I walk through the kitchen again.
The pastry has not learned its lesson.
Another bite…
I’ve done versions of this most of my life. It’s just tonight. I’m out with friends. I’ve been good all week. I’ll start tomorrow. One bite won’t matter.
One bite probably doesn’t.
Life is made of individual days. Maybe it didn’t happen Tuesday. Maybe Tuesday happened 2,000 times.
That’s the part we’re good at not noticing. We know something isn’t helping and we do it anyway. Then we build a reasonable story for why this time doesn’t count.
I’ve avoided saying the next part in public for a long time.
