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Three at Three

I ate three croissants the other day.  Three croissants in the span of one hour, at around 3pm without even realizing it.  This is what happened:

Wanting to lightly toast my convenience store open faced croissant, I watched it go from ‘just crisp enough’ in the toaster oven, to suddenly darker and darker and darker.  Just like watching a beautiful sunset, my bread of choice for the day went from golden in color to black black black.  I love to cook and am quite good at it, but I cannot, as of late, toast a single piece of bread without turning it into charcoal. This is where it gets sad, as if eating a repackaged Costco-by-way-of-Asian-convenience-store croissant isn’t sad enough.  I was craving and desperate.  Give me a break, you’ve been there, so STAHP it.  Having a love for reusing leftovers and bits of unused food,  I scraped off the top and tried to eat around it.  Hmmm…..  Not being satisfied, I thought it only fair to have a do over.  This time I sliced open the second croissant and toasted it for two minutes less,  standing watch but considering leaving it in an extra minute as I licked my fingers of that last crumb of my poor first try.  This time it didn’t burn, but it wasn’t crispy either.  Not wanting to risk it, I decided it would have to do and plated it with my left over egg dish.  No, it wasn’t breakfast, or lunch, or dinner.  It was three in the afternoon.  You know how when you eat refined carbohydrates you just want more refined carbohydrates?  At about 3:40, it got really sad.  I thought, oh….  I can have another croissant.  So I toasted another one, this time seemingly okay, but just gobbled it down.  I’d forgotten that I had the first burned croissant and realized at that point I had eaten three, not ‘just two’.  What the *bleep*?!?!?!?!  To make up for my horrid indiscretion, I vowed the next day not to eat a croissant, or cookie, or even a cracker.

I planned to stick with what I brought for lunch the next day (lots of veggies in olive oil on top of  a very tiny bed of capellini with homemade pesto) and then have fruit in the afternoon,  until Teacher Lee came up to me.   There was a piece of left over chocolate cake with purple icing for me from my favorite bakery.  “You HAVE to try it,” she insisted.  I mean, I hate wasting…..  and doesn’t everyone know chocolate cake tastes better the next day anyway?  Also, who refuses custom, celebratory cake from a two year old?  That’s just rude.  I wrapped up a small (for me) piece and put it in my purse to eat at home with my sensible dinner instead of wolfing it down at 2:45pm like a child.  I mean, it’s not like I am that impatient.  I do have some self restraint.

I had so much self restraint that I was able to walk the twelve blocks from the shuttle to my apartment  stopping at neither the doughnut place, nor the proper boulangerie without touching it.  How french of me to not eat while walking!  I even kept it in my purse the whole time I was in line at the cheapie taqueria for my impulsive California fries with carne asada order.  I am the picture of absolute self control, I prided, smiling knowingly at the others around me.  You guys have no idea I’ve got purple cake in my purse and am so not touching it.

A bite of cake, a couple of cheesy, creamy, gooey meaty french fries.  Swallow, drink water, repeat.  So good.  So gratifying.  Ugh, so heavy.  Too heavy.  I ended up tossing the remaining half of the fries into the trash and pushing the container to the bottom of the bin with the purple stained paper towel.  I need to off set this with my apple. Wait- what’s that behind the fruit….  oh, the rest of the COSCrOi-ssants…  score!!!

I know, I have issues.

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