Good Friends and Arkansas Pie

Day 10

My mom told me that my great-grandfather used to call gravy over bread "Arkansas pie." When I was growing up, my family called it "gravy bread." (We were usually more creative with names, but wanted to be sure there was no mistaking what we were talking about.) Even into adulthood, don't give me mashed potatoes or rice, just give me a piece of bread slathered with gravy--my mouth is truly watering as I write this. I, however, carried it beyond gravy. When my mom would make steak or chops, I loved loved LOVED to use a piece of bread to mop up the drippings. We called it "soppy." I think I loved soppy bread even more than gravy bread. It was rich, usually a bit salty, meaty, and sooooo bad for me. 

Tonight I went to dinner with my friend, Julie, and her kids. Julie is also on the Xyngular plan (and has had amazing results).  We ended up at a wing place and were pleasantly surprised to find grilled veggies on the sides list. Although I am on my second day off, like I said in my last post, I neither needed nor desired to eat anything "crazy." I wanted to be smart.  I ordered a mushroom burger with some Swiss cheese and veggies. Julie, because of where she is in her Ignite cycle, knew she was going to not eat the bun. I decided I wouldn't either. Do you know how much more you can taste the hamburger when it's not surrounded by the huge sesame seed bun? I'm digressing; I'll move on.

Anyway, supper progressed. It was tasty. The kids were crazy. Despite lackluster service, everything was great. Until--cue dramatic music--I looked down. There, on the bun, lying on the plate, looking at me was the bun, splattered with the juices from the burger. (See, the first paragraph did have a purpose.) For someone who loves bread as much as I, turning down the bun should've been hard, but it wasn't--initially. Once I saw the juices on the bun, well, even though the burger was gone, I wanted to eat it. I, instead, pecked at it, pinching at the spots bathed in the juice. But I did it subtlety, or so I thought, because I did not want the kids announcing it and making me feel guilty about it. (That's a conversation for my therapist, I'm sure.) Julie, at one point, giggled and asked if I had taken a bite out of it. She was not judging me or even making fun of me. We had a laugh, and I asked if I could put the bun one her plate, away from me. We finished our dinner.

See, it was not a big deal. I could've eaten the bun; it was an off day. I could've eaten the bun, even if it wasn't an off day; it would have just slowed my progress some. It would not have been devastating, no big deal. Why I've held you in rapt attention with this story is simple: there will always be temptations, whether it be chocolate, a plate of pasta, or "soppy bread" (or bun). It is a lot easier to stick to the plan--no matter what yours is--when surrounded by good friends!

Thank you, Julie, Drew, Libby, and Sydney for a great evening!