OK, fine. Send me to boot camp.


I need to learn some discipline.

I'm here to admit, ashamedly, that I only lasted a day. One day. Uno. Wednesday to Thursday. And I completely blame someone else. Well, two people actually. (I don't blame myself, of course.)

I ate dessert. There. I said it. But let me explain.

It was a coworker's last day of work last week. Another coworker brought a cheesecake to work in her honor. And if you've ever tasted his cheesecake, well, I wouldn't need to explain my indulgence. And sin. And horrible, horrible lack of self control. But it's his fault for making the cheesecake and her fault for leaving. Right? No?

Crap.

I went as far as to look up dessert in the dictionary. To sum it up, it means a treat following a meal. Technically my piece of (sweet, delicious) cheesecake didn't follow a meal. But still, I failed. I can admit it. (Does it matter if it was made with low fat cream cheese?)

I've never learned discipline. Growing up I never really did much to disobey authority. I wasn't even grounded as a child. At 15 I was more concerned with buying the latest 'N Sync poster than I was with staying out too late. (Shoot. I admitted that, didn't I?) So I don't blame my parents for my lack of discipline. I blame my lack of disobedience.

But now this. This is punishable. Can I start over? Hit rewind? Technically I'm not even Catholic, so I can make up my own rules, can't I?

I'll just punish myself. I'm officially grounded. No dessert for 33 days.