I’m tough. I’ve always been a stronger-than-average type of person, able to carry heavy things, accomplish tasks with an obsessive attention to detail, reach challenging goals. To be honest, I’m rather proud of this personal characteristic. I’ve gotten over a myriad of addictions; I’ve made my way through a heaping pile of emotional tragedies, broken hearts, failed relationships, and loss, keeping my personality mostly intact and maintaining a somewhat healthy sense of self worth. I’ve become even stronger through the years. 

But I have this defect. I’m not very good at abstaining from something I shouldn’t have. Especially if it appeals to my sense of taste.

Like many of my generation, I’ll forever have Nancy Reagan speaking in my ear like the needling voice of my conscience. “Just say no.” Those three little words jump into my head every time I’m about to do something fun or illegal. I usually plow through the reasons NOT to do the particular thing I should be saying no to and justify my doing it anyway. But, really, I’m going to need to do some rethinking here.

And the embarrassing thing is, it’s just about food. Fatty food. I can’t help wishing my kryptonite were something a bit more dramatic and interesting.  Like, a sudden deadly allergy to mechanical pencils. Or a blinding fear of steering wheels.  But no. Fatty foods are my arch nemeses. Oh, and carbonated beverages. It’s all because of a silly little organ that sits below my liver. My gall bladder is teh sux.

It doesn’t want to process the fats anymore. So when I make unwise dietary choices (notice I didn’t say “when I’m being bad”? This is what counseling does! Yay!), I get abdominal pain. Yes, I know I should have the damn thing out, but I have this uncomfortable fear of hospitals. And a desire to stay, ya know, intact. You can read more about this problem here.

I’ve been stubbornly refusing to talk to a surgeon. Instead, I’ve changed my eating habits. But some things are SO hard to ignore.

Bacon.

Give me the crunchy pig fat.  I can live without the dairy. There are substitutes for some of the many things I crave. But there is NO substitute for the fatty goodness that is bacon.

It’s not only bacon that I want. It’s just what I wanted TODAY. I’m supposed to stay away from hydrogenated oils, butter/marg, cheese, milk, animal fats, chocolate, carbonated beverages, and sex.

Just kidding about the sex. Kinda.

My appetities have always run toward the savory. The cream sauces, soft cheeses, marbled meats. Dark chocolates. *drools*. Oh yeah, baby. Slather the bread in butter. Alfredo sauce with heavy whipping cream, please. YES, I’d like whip on my frappucino, thanks!

And this one time, at band camp, on the husband’s birthday, I was an ice cream sundae. Imagine not being able to enjoy such things as BEING an ice cream sundae. You can’t be an ice cream sundae with fat-free sorbet and a no-fat chocolate sauce substitute. What’s the point, really?

I’ve tried to make good choices. I eat granola with soy milk. My dinners lately involve a whole lot of fresh veggies like avocado and purple cabbage, carrots and salads. Plain white rice with some salt. And then today, I made a special breakfast for the husband to celebrate Father’s Day. Scrambled eggs with mozzarella, bacon, and waffles. I only had 2 pieces of the bacon. And doing so almost ruined this special day, because I’ve been in pain all day long. Yet I didn’t let that keep us from having a good day. But I can’t help thinking that it could have been better. I’ll obsess over this guiltily for awhile.

I’m strong. I really am. But this gall bladder problem is starting to take hostages. It’s affecting my family.

Time to call the doctor.

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