Or should I say, I’m beating myself up over a King?
A King Cake that is.
From Flickr via The Gifted Photographer
I went to a friends house for a lovely, healthy Fat Tuesday dinner. She made a salad with cajun chicken and home made bleu cheese dressing. Great and lowcarb!
Except I brought a King Cake to the dinner. Even though she is watching her calories and I don’t eat carbs. I told myself “we’ll just see who gets the baby, no one has to eat it.”
Stupid Emmie.
I ate it. A big chunk of it. And when I was driving home with the remnants, intended for hubs? I ate some more.
I walked into my house, with the ziploc bag of half-eaten king cake and green/purple/yellow layer of sticky fingers from the sprinkles. I felt like I had eaten a brick, and my head started to hurt.
It didn’t taste good. I wasn’t hungry. But it was there, and I ate it anyway.
When will I ever learn?!?!
