I can hear it from the other room, I swear it is calling my name.
The little, white angel on my left shoulder whispering too, simply saying “no….”
The tiny red guy with horns saying in my right ear, “go for it.”
My mind, terribly conflicted as the t.v. talks in the background too.
So many messages as a commercial comes on, images of delicious things.
I tell myself that I’m so comfortable sitting here, I don’t want to get up again anyway.
I sink farther into the sofa, attempting to curtail my thoughts.
But it’s just SO good. Who said that?
I glance over into the kitchen, the big, white box mocking me.
I’m not that far, it taunts.
But I resist, pretending I am strapped to the furniture, like a mental patient.
Suddenly I’m angry with myself.
Why did I buy that anyway?
The little devil took over at the market. He made me do it.
It just looked so tasty. I barely remember my hand gently placing it in the grocery cart.
But I’ve tasted it. I know its goodness. And I want more.
Just then I hear the door and I’m thrust out of my thoughts.
My problem now solved.
Hey babe, how was your day?
Good, how was yours? He places a kiss on my lips. Wonder if he tastes it.
Pretty good. I say.
Did you save me some dessert?
I did! There’re a few bites in there for you.
I am so proud.
I wrote this for The Red Dress Club prompt: Tell the story (without any trivialization or modesty) of something in your life that you are proud of. And well, I’m always proud of myself when I don’t eat ALL the dessert. 🙂