Temptation

Campers, once again I have confounded conventional wisdom.

You may recall that way back in the initial stages of my gluten-free catastrophe The Nutritionist predicted that I, like all new initiates to The Coven, would balloon to Brobdingnagian proportions as a result of the inevitable changes that wheatlessness would wreak on my diet. She cited a variety of causes for this unavoidable adipose creation: the density of foods made with starches such as corn, rice, and tapioca; the additives present in many g/f convenience products; and (unstated by her but inferred by me) the desperate transference bingeing brought about by the depression and hopelessness experienced when newly-denied devotees must forswear their cakes, tarts, and breakfast pastries.

Well, I showed her. Somehow, since the middle of September, I have lost nine pounds.

That's right. I am a true medical phenomenon.

While the quacks scratch their heads and raise their eyebrows incredulously at my prognostication-defying svelteness (I believe I am known in the phys biz as 'an outlier') I have a straightforward explanation for my dramatic loss of poundage.

Quite simply, gluten-free treats (unless I make them myself, of course) are oxymorons of supermarket-bagel sized proportions. Since I have not yet found a commercially-produced g/f cake or cookie worth the calories, several days often go by where I eat nothing but wholesome good-for-me foods consisting of earnest grains, fresh veg, and lean protein.

It is painless to be steadfast when there is no easily-available alternative - and while this forfeiture is awesome for my waistline, it can be tough on my resolve, as I discovered today.

I had to get my car serviced.  I decamped to my local automotive dealership, whose gifted mechanics have been keeping my beautiful silver Element in tip-top shape for years. Since I needed new tires to combat the ice and snow of winter (better late than never!) I decided to make use of the lobby's wireless network and wait on-site for the grease monkeys to work their magic.

So far so good. I settled in for the duration, iPad in hand. But then the aroma of freshly brewed coffee came wafting tantalizingly toward me. Drawn like a moth to the flame, I made my way to the flasks where hot java awaited. And what was sitting there brazenly on the counter, offered up gratis to Honda's loyal customers?

Boxes of doughnuts. Big boxes of doughnuts. Big boxes of squidgy, chocolaty, sprinkle-covered, creme-filled, frosted, glazed and sugared rings of deep-fried heaven.

I may not be tempted by ersatz gluten-free imitations (I know, I know - first an oxymoron, now a tautology), but the real deal can still cause palpable longing and regret that no surfeit of quinoa or chia seeds can assuage.

It was painful, sitting there waiting for my car in the presence of such seductiveness. Is my mental courage being excessively challenged by the unusually windy and cold weather we have been experiencing of late? Has my subconscious, deprived of its accustomed doses of fat and sugary calories, decided that enough is enough? Am I suffering from the actual physical effects of confectionery withdrawal?

Sometimes, it's hard to convince myself that being a size two is worth it.