Cheese, Please!!!

I am not genetically predisposed to having a figure worth keeping the lights on for. In truth, I'm built kind of like a 5th grade boy: short, flat-chested, and a little awkward in my own skin. Still, it's better than the alternative; one I've visited a time or two. Adding insult to injury, it's occurred to me that I really AM getting older, as is evidenced daily by the weird noises my bones make.

Anyone who has ever been to market with me, or for that matter sat down to a meal, knows that as ridiculous it is, I do think there's a difference between ingesting 220 calories versus 250. I do the math on everything - not because I'm one of those granola-chopping, organic produce only health nuts, but because if there's a way to get out of doing even a single set of crunches or squats, I'm gonna find it.

[sidebar: For those of you thinking, "Oh my god, she actually DOES squats?" given that my ass started having cocktails with my knees about a decade ago, it's true. Fun fact: I've discovered that no amount of squats will ever give me a high and tight ass. I blame my parents.Cheers!]

Okay. Here's where we're going with this.

I'm in the market this morning, trying to race through before those good Christians with their mean-spirited, snotty-nosed little brats get out of church and swarm in with the sole intent of making me want to stuff someone into the freezer bin, when I finally get to the fancy cheeses.

I love cheese. All cheeses. Cheese is my favorite food in the world. Because of this, I like to focus on the great protein part of this particular food, as opposed to the detrimental high caloric and fat content. Like so many things we love (read: yeah, people), I know this one isn't really good for me. In the end, I'll feel bound up, a little depressed, and wondering when, oh when, will I finally just say "no!" to a relationship that's killing me!?!?

Quick time check: enough left to relax into making my selection.

I meandered slowly, looking to see what new offerings there might be; checking prices on stand-by favorites; trying to decide if I'm in a smoked-something-or-other mood, a dill horseradish mood, do I want something soft and buttery or something with some bite to it? Then... there it was.

"Light Brie"
Now, you'd think given my current ass situation, I'd be all over this. And I'll admit it, I did pick it up - purely out of curiosity - to read the label. 
Portion size: one ounce. 
Calories: 70. 
Fat: 6 grams.

*blink* *blink*

Not gonna lie, even I was a little surprised by what happened next. I did that thing we do when we've been presented with an option that is an improvement over our "usual": I tossed it back in the case and with a loud sigh said out loud to no one in particular, "oh, why bother." I grabbed the triple creme brie and headed for the cashier just as the faint wailing of over-indulged mini-thems descended on Aisle 1.

Just this last time, I promised myself, knowing perfectly well that I'll be back.
*snicker*