The good, the bad, the ugly.

The good: I'm home. Vacation in Scottsdale was relaxing...lots of long hours lounging by the pool, a trip to the Grand Canyon, a ride in a hot air balloon, champagne breakfast in the dessert, shopping for my new fall wardrobe, whizzing through three novels. I loved just about every minute of it.

The bad: food. I've long said that this blog keeps me accountable and so it will today. I gained weight on vacation. Not just "that time of the month" weight. Not water weight. Just plain old "stuff your face like a pig" weight. No, I didn't eat full-size meals three times a day. But I often ate more than I should. A lot more.

We'd go out to eat for one meal a day. I'd taste this incredible food and then I couldn't stop eating. It was like some switch flipped in my head and I was going to eat until I was sick and sore. Vacation was just an excuse to indulge in all those old, screwed up reasons for eating.

As the week went on, it seemed like I cared even less. But the truth is it bugged me more and more, and I could not stop myself. Never once since my surgery have I felt as out of control with food as I did this past week.

The ugly: Flight 833 from Phoenix to Milwaukee.

Two chocolate chip cookies. I normally wouldn't have even taken them, but I was going to give them to Rose. They sat on the tray, smelling so heavenly and looking like they were just the right temperature to break them apart and watch the melted chocolate string from one half to the other. And it did just that when I broke one. That first taste in my mouth coated my tongue, sweet hitting just the right spot, a salty bit working its way in there. The swallow was divine. It was the first bite of a fresh-baked chocolate chip cookie I'd had in a year. It was the best one in my whole life.

Before I had even realized that first bite was down my throat, I took another and swallowed it. Then another. I never even thought about it until the half-chewed wedge scraped the back of my mouth. What the hell was I doing?

I sat there dumbfounded. I wanted to cry because I felt like I just took this horrific turn for the worse. Yes, it was another bad choice on top of a week of bad food choices. But who was I fooling? I didn't want to give the cookies to Rose. And if I did, how supportive is that of her? She had her own two cookies! I wanted those cookies for myself. I was tired. I was sad that vacation was ending. I was stressed about returning to work. Those cookies were going to make everything ok.

So this morning I stood on the scale and let the numbers scream at me. How long will it take to knock off those flippin' pounds? What am I going to have to do to make them disappear? There's a reason I'm a scale whore and that's because the damn contraption keeps me on a short leash and smack-dab in the middle of a narrow path.

Back to basics for me. I'm doing two days of protein. I'm cleaning out the cupboards in case there are any lingering foods of temptation. And I'm not flying Midwest for at least 2 months.