The Devil Dogs Made Me Do It

Last week I wrote a post about my oldest son and shared a photo of the two of us.  I chose that picture because, to me, it shows the true affection we have for each other.  My son is quite a hugger:)

But in putting it out here, I first thought about how I looked in that photo.  No make up.  Sloppy clothes.  Thin?

The no makeup and sloppy clothes are pretty much the day-to-day me.  The thin part… well… remember, this is a yo-yo dieter writing.  I was not surprised when I got some complimentary comments about my weight.  And my immediate reaction was to respond and explain that I was thinner then than I am now.  To be honest in admitting something that I shy away from admitting.  Yes, I talk about my yo-yo years.  But rarely do I mention just how recently I was so close to being a maintainer.  So close!

That photo was taken late August 2009 when my husband and I had just driven my son back to campus.  It is a long drive.  Eighteen hours each way, give or take.  You may already sense where this is going.  A long drive means a lot of time to snack in the car.  Road trips and road trip food.  Hand in hand.  Hand into mouth.

Earlier that same summer I had once again reached my goal weight through what I thought was a lifestyle change and not just another diet.  I thought I had it figured out.  I was sure, sure, that I would not regain the weight once again.  I was wrong.  By the time we headed to campus, I was up only a few pounds in a few months.  Just a few.  But I was already wobbling horribly on that slippery slope.  The slope of eating what I used to eat.  The slope that leads to regaining.  The slope that I have slid down gradually or tumbled down heels over head at an amazing rate of speed all too often in the past.

So, I was not thinking about healthy snacks for the road.  I was thinking about Devil Dogs.  If you aren’t from a part of the country where they are available in stores, you may not know what they are.  Let me enlighten you.  Little luscious individually wrapped mouthfuls of deliciousness.  Horribly unhealthy.  Sorry, Drakes.  I remember them fondly from my childhood; they were a favorite after school snack back in the days when I was skinny and had no food issues other than choosing junk over veggies.  Yum.  But Drakes products aren’t sold here in the Midwest.  So, a handful of times in the 20+ years that I have been an East Coast to Midwest transplant, I have indulged myself by buying and devouring indulging in a box on a trip east.  Not every time I go, which is typically once a year.  But now and again, probably less times than I could count on one hand.  One cream-laced, chocolate crumb filled hand.

This particular trip I had Devil Dogs on my mind the whole drive east.  I told myself that after we had moved our son back into his dorm we’d hit the store and I would buy a box.  One box.  Eight delectable cream filled cakes.  But circumstances conspired against me (or some would say worked in my favor) and I found myself on the road back home, craving unsatisfied.  Therein lies the rub.  Rather than move on and put the craving behind me with each store I passed, I instead obsessed about what I wanted and couldn’t have.  And every time we stopped for gas, I almost ran into the little shop to search the junk-food laden shelves in hopes of a little Drake snack cake satisfaction.  But no.

So I ate other crap.  Less satisfying crap.  Crappy crap.  And felt like crap.  And really, really wanted those darn Devil Dogs.  It was crazy, really, when I think about it.  How they had become this little obsession I built up in my mind.

Back home, with nary a Drakes cake in sight, I returned to reality.  Which, unfortunately, included the still slippery slope that I slid further down until I put on the brakes one more time in December of that year.  And started my blog and what I really believed was my last ever diet.  Silly me.

Devil Dogs didn’t lead me to regain.  They were just a symptom of what was already clearly a growing problem.  And I’d like to say as I write this that seeing my craziness here in print is just the motivation I need to commit to never eating another of those delicious snack cakes.  But, then again, I’d like to say a lot of things.

So, for now, I’m safe and sound in the Drakes-free Midwest.  No pending trips east planned.  No Devil Dogs in my future.  And, fingers (and toes and eyes) crossed, no more slippery slopes of weight regain either.

Any “devil” food in your life?