Yesterday at work, my boss brought me a cookie.

It’s adorable. A frosted sugar cookie in the shape of Cinderella’s glass slipper (or just a fancy high heel shoe) with blue sprinkles and little pink flowers for decoration.

I didn’t eat the cookie.

It sat on my desk, all day, staring at me. “Look at me. I’m delicious. I’m made with sugar!”

At one point I picked up the cookie. I read the sticker on the package. It’s obviously made at one of those boutique bakeries that specialize in custom orders. The blue sprinkles were a little melty, and had smeared on the plastic wrapper. The thick white frosting looked silky smooth, and I could perfectly imagine the way my teeth would puncture its perfect surface before sinking into the creamy layer smothered over the cookie. And don’t even get me started on the flowers. Tiny, baby pink, perfect sugary flowers.

I put the cookie down. I’m not going to eat this cookie.

With one week to go until I start Whole 30, I’m trying to be good this week so there’s no cold turkey withdrawals come Day 2 or 3. Weaning myself off the sugar slowly but surely. That will probably go out the window on Easter Sunday, but one day at a time, amiright?

Around mid-afternoon, I again looked at the cookie. I could *just* eat the flowers. They’re going to be the best part, anyway. That and the frosting. I don’t even care about the actual cookie. I’m not even hungry.

I wasn’t even hungry! I got up and walked away from the cookie.

A little while later, my brain remembered the cookie. I should just throw it away. I’m not going to eat it. … But I don’t want my boss to see that I threw it away. It might hurt his feelings. I’ll just leave it right here and throw it away when he leaves. … Maybe I could just scrape a little of the frosting off, just to see if it’s any good…

No! I’M NOT EATING THIS COOKIE.

My inner-dialogue went back and forth like this the entire afternoon. My taste buds, negotiating just a little taste, just one flower, with my brain and willpower (surprisingly, I have it somewhere) remembering to just say NO!

When my boss left for the day, I started to clean up and pack my things. I picked up the cookie. And looked at it, again. But I didn’t throw it away.

It felt a little like a victory that the cookie survived to see 5 pm, wholly intact. It’s not often that I am able to practice such self-control around food. If you give me a box of Girl Scout Cookies, I will eat an entire sleeve of Thin Mints in one sitting. I can’t have a bag of Mint Milanos in the house, because I will eat them all. At once. Cheddar-flavored potato chips don’t stand a chance around me. So the fact that this little cookie made it to the end of the day was a major effort.

I picked up the cookie and put it in my desk drawer. It’s still there, right now. I haven’t looked at it yet today, because I think the little pink flowers might do me in. I can’t tell if knowing it’s there is more like Linus’ security blanket or like when someone challenges me by telling me there’s something I can’t do – I immediately want to prove them wrong.

I’m going to leave the cookie in my desk. I’m reasonably sure that the cookie isn’t going to be good for very long. It’s probably pretty stale by now, anyway. But I’m hoping that it’s going to be a reminder that I didn’t want the cookie, I survived without eating the cookie, and that I didn’t let eating or not eating the cookie ruin my day.

I want to stop looking at food as being “bad” or “good.” I feel like that’s not a healthy route for someone like me. I know what’s healthy and I know what’s unhealthy. I eat both healthy and unhealthy food all the time. Assigning a label of “bad” or “good” to food is when it becomes emotional eating for me. If I eat ice cream, that’s being bad, but I feel good doing it because it’s yummy, so then I feel bad for feeling good. Why can’t I just feel good about enjoying myself on occasion?

I know what it feels like to feel unhealthy. I eat unhealthy food and I feel unhealthy afterward. I spend a weekend sitting on my couch watching TV and not doing anything else, and come Monday morning I’m winded just getting down the stairs. On the other hand, when I eat healthy food, watch my calories and macros, and workout every day, I feel healthy and that feels good.

A few people have asked me why I picked Whole 30, and the answer is mainly just to feel healthy again and remember what that feels like. After the wedding, I haven’t been able to regain control over my healthy habits. I’m treating the Whole 30 as a reset button for my body. Some people have the ability to just cut back, but I need something a little more regimented.

I’m keeping the cookie in my desk drawer the entire 30 days.  It’s going to be rancid by the end of that, I know, but it’s symbolic of accountability. If anyone were to ask me about the cookie between now and April 27, I’ll be able to snap a picture of the cookie and show them that yes, I’m still on track.

On a side note, if anyone is interested in doing the Whole 30 with me, I would love the company. I’m starting Monday, the day after Easter, so you can get your Peeps kick in one last time. We can start our own little support group along the way. To learn more, check out whole30.com and message me so I can keep track.