This is a story about self control. And how I have none.
Every morning I go to the exact same Tim Hortons and order the exact same thing—large coffee with milk and splenda. The ladies who work in the Queen and Yonge street location know me by name and have my order ready for me by the time I get to the front of the line. They should be sainted, for real. This morning, though, as I was briskly walking through the subway station I caught a whiff of someone’s Starbucks coffee.
Three minutes later I was in a line telling myself
DO NOT ORDER A PUMPKIN SPICE LATTE.
DO NOT ORDER A PUMPKIN SPICE LATTE.
DO NOT ORDER A PUMPKIN SPICE LATTE.
Wanna play Guess What’s in the Cup?
It’s a super fun game. Everyone likes it but my ass.
Sigh. Yes. No self control. None. But at least I ordered it with only one pump of syrup instead of three….right? Silver lining?
And, sadly, this self control problem extends farther than just my friendly neighborhood Starbucks store. Last night while watching The Biggest Loser premiere, I sat on my couch eating my way through an entire chicken pot pie. I blame the show, really. I mean, I was crying my fool head off not 5 minutes into the episode. When Anna Kournikova ran out to meet her sad and slow old team with the flag in hand? I grabbed my favorite comfort food and sobbed through the entire episode. I wonder what Bob would have to say about that. Probably nothing good. But, you know, I’ll have some half-witty comeback about his hair.
It’s going to be a long fall, I’m afraid.
Please tell me I’m not alone.
![Comments](http://www.alimartell.com/wp-content/themes/alianthro/images/comments.png)
10