If I Had A Molasses Cookie...

Okay, so we've established that it's been over a year since I quite smoking and during the first few months, I really thought that I might get away with it without packing on any of the weight that whiny ex-smokers reference. I'd go up a few pounds here, a few pounds there but nothing of any significance.

However, once I examined the entire 365 days and had a look at the scale, one thing became glaringly apparent: I'd gained some weight.

Like "Freshman year of university" gain. (Still cannot understand that phenomena considering the amount of time I spent hugging the lav)

Like "Ooh, I'm pregnant and eating for two" gain.

Like "Holy crap, is that MY ass?" gain.

I can't really blame the excess poundage on cigarettes, either. I've battled with weight since I was an infant, apparently. In my baby book, my mum wrote the following about my Christening:

"Beth was the largest baby at the ceremony".

Nice.

Yeah, well my parents are to blame. Breast feeding wasn't "fashionable" back then (clashed with the mini skirt and go go boots, I suppose) so they stuffed ounce after ounce of formula down my throat until I looked like a sausage. Actually, the real culprit is their faulty DNA which is programmed to consume multiple bags of salt and vinegar chips washed down with gobs of triple chocolate cake. My foodie genes dominate the entire chromosomal pool, too. They ensure that no matter what the circumstance, feeding takes priority.

As an example, I recall the time that sistah cousin and I drove from New Brunswick to Ontario after spending Christmas with our grandparents. We got up at the crack of dawn on January 1st to drive the Plaster Rock Highway (to hell), which is a legendary two lane nightmare known for its twisty roads. It is flanked on each side by a forest teeming with deer that regularly bolt out in front of traffic. For nearly 203 km, there isn't a restaurant, a gas station or any public building of any sort. It's a wasteland. In the dead of winter, this highway could be the backdrop for a horror movie. It is a desolate, icy, roller coaster. At night, things peer out at you from the woods. Bear? Deer? Moose? Serial Killer? It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand straight up.

Cindi had a GMC Jimmy back then (waaayy ahead of the whole SUV trend)and a leaden foot. We left Gram's that morning with our luggage, our Christmas gifts and the best molasses cookies that have ever been made by anyone since the beginning of time. I was feeling a bit under the weather and it was decided that Cindi would take the first driving shift while I lay prone in the back seat.

It had been a rough winter for the Maritimes that year and there was a ton of snow on the ground. City roads had been cleared and salted but the more rural routes were likely to be covered in several layers of snow, ice and sand. We had made it most of the way across the highway and were looking forward to coffee, a washroom and some sign of intelligent life. Then, we hit a patch of ice.

As we crested one of the hills we felt the rear end of the truck slide to the right. Cindi corrected and we slid to the left. Then right, then left until finally, we were out of control and headed for the ditch on the side of oncoming traffic. As the vehicle rolled over, I distinctly remember thinking, "This isn't so bad." Until we came to a stop, upside down.

And I saw that Gram's molasses cookies and other baked goodies were scattered all over the car.

Then, I was upset.

I wasn't the slightest bit concerned about being hurt or about the car being caved in at the sunroof. I was worried about finishing our trip home without provisions from my grammy's kitchen.

Cindi, still strapped in and hanging upside down asked me to get her out of her seat belt. After initially panicking at not being able to open the doors, we rolled down the windows and crawled out on our bellies into the snow. There we were, early New Year's Day, waiting on the shoulder for a car to flag down. We didn't have cell phones back then and the prospect of walking that blasted highway to the nearest gas station caused us both pause. Freddy Kruger could have been in those woods.

So, we waited. And because Cindi has exceptional karma, we didn't hang out there very long before a nice family drove up with a stunned expression. I think they expected something horrific when they saw the truck wheels up. They offered to give us a lift to the nearest gas station. We scurried back down the ditch to get our purses. As I tried to shimmy all of the way back into the Jimmy, Cindi asked me what the hell I was doing. Our purses were within an arm's reach.

"We've got to get the molasses cookies", I said.

And there you have the clearest example of my lifelong relationship with food.

I have thought about chocolate EVERY SINGLE DAY. When I ate my spinach leaves tonight, I imagined that they were a beautiful prime rib dinner, perfectly seasoned with garlic mashed potatoes swimming in butter and a side of sauteed onions and mushrooms. I savoured each dry, earthy mouthful.

But I didn't cheat.

Because when I got on the scale this morning, I was down ten pounds after six days of dieting. This Hcg thing is a miracle.