…leave your sacrifices at the door. No Dr. Pepper, butter, sarcasm, or whatever else you’ve given up allowed.
This year, I’ve given up butter. I won’t add butter to anything, I won’t cook anything with butter in it, and to as far an extent as possible, I won’t eat anything that was probably made with butter, but I’m not going to stress about this point too much. That last bit means I won’t sweat the waiters about whether something was made with butter, but that I just won’t select cookies, texas toast, or other things I know usually require butter. No popcorn with butter. (Boo.)
Then at Easter, I’m making a big batch of scones.
I was told (by someone in this marriage who shall remain nameless (not me)) that was a kind of wussy thing to give up, but upon further questioning admitted to fears that it would their diet.
It’s really part of a two-fold sacrifice, because the other thing I’m giving up for Lent is the rest of my pregnancy weight.
It’s not about how I look, I like how I look, when I remember to think about it. It’s not necessarily about how I feel, hefting a twenty pound baby around has benefits for one’s stamina after all. It’s not even about that Stupid Wii Fit board mocking me, like some twisted Nintendo version of Clippy.
It’s just that I know those extra 15 pounds are not good for me. I have two more months left in 9 months up, 9 months down. I’ll put these 40 days of Lent to good use in dropping them.
Then I’ll gain it all back eating those scones.
