O Oreo, Oreo, Wherefore Art My Willpower?

There are 28 of them. Fourteen tuxedoed-and-pink-banded pairs in three perfect lines. 150 calories in each pair. 2,100 for all 28. I would need to stop eating for a few days. And run about 20 miles. 

Without stopping.

But it’s hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk and no matter how I spin the math, I can’t sugarcoat the fact that it is 10 a.m. and the box of Berry Burst Oreos meant for my children’s lunches is now at risk of becoming mine. What started out as a day of productivity has slid right off the rails and these messy moments inevitably take place right after an expensive trip to the grocery store. So, even if I am able to fend off the Oreos, there’s no guarantee that the Dulce de Leche in the freezer and the cupcake-flavored Goldfish crackers in the pantry are safe.

Even the half-eaten oatmeal cookie my daughter stashed in the fridge “for later” looks good right now.

I’ve been told I am tenacious – I prefer to see that as an advantage rather than a flaw. The bigger the challenge and the harder the task, the more motivated I am. (There are exceptions of course. Like the whole losing-my-husband thing. That was more like piranhas-could-tear-the-flesh-from-my-bones-and-I-would-not-have-noticed devastating.) This tiny little frame is remarkably strong and resilient, driven by stubborn practicality and willfulness. And if you’ve been following along, you know that my capacity for life’s crap has been vigorously road tested. So, just to recap: I don’t give up without a fight, no matter how bad the odds look.

Unless your most appealing attributes can be described with words like “confection,” “frosted” and “melt in your mouth.”

You know those people that feel the tension leave as a five-star resort and spa masseuse digs it out of their backs? Or the people that attack the gym to sweat it out? Those yoga-types that sit like little buddhas with their palms up and forefinger and thumb joined in some sort of mental cleanse? Robert De Niro in “Anger Management”?

I’m not one of those.

I turn to my friends when tension builds, and I’ve never met a carb I can’t make friends with. And with one little phone call, my well-intentioned day has dissolved into a pool of scattered thoughts, the muscles between my shoulders and my neck have twisted into fiery knots, and I’ve had visions of sugar plums dancing in my head.

I should probably start lacing up those running shoes right now. Because when I pick my daughter up at summer camp today, she’ll be bringing a chocolate pizza home with her.