I ordered a lock box for the fudge rounds. This way, Desmond won’t have to keep them in his room, and I won’t be able to nab them from his room in moments of weakness.
I forgot to tell Derek not to laugh before I divulged this plan.
I can put other stuff in there, too, that I don’t trust myself around.
At first I found the idea ridiculous, and it reminded me of the old padlocked, chained up refrigerator image of dieting. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought, you know, that might actually work.
I know WW is all about unrestricted food choices, but maybe I need a little restriction, maybe just to get me started down the right road. Maybe I can ditch this plan or modify it once I start to build momentum.
Fudge rounds are like my kryptonite, right now.