Sometimes All You Can Do Is Cry

I have to share. Ok, so I went to a new super market up the street yesterday. I noticed they had a display of something or other. I looked in and noticed it was "Mexican" sweet bread (pan dulce). My absolute favorite thing in the world! Now, I'm from El Salvador but Mexican, Cuban, or Puerto Rican it's all good to me! Every cell in my body was screaming, "COMELO!" - translation... "EAT IT."I felt this rush of emotions. I was elated that I found this delicious delicacy right up the street from my house! But at the same time I felt this overwhelming sense of sadness. Ok, more like gloom. This was it! I had met my match. I could keep myself from eating a box of cookies even under the influence of Ambien. I would stop eventually. The diet was more important. But now, staring at my favorite pastry, smelling the anise and vanilla, I became weak and sad. I stared at it and cried. I just started crying. I though, "Damn it! If I wanted to starve I can just take my 3rd world ass back home! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! I came to the USA for a better life and life without pan dulce isn't a life!" Forget my thyroid issues and new found gluten intolerance. The horrible reality hit me that I would never ever eat pan dulce again. I'd rather die fat than live skinny. There were 6 pieces left in the bread pantry and I wanted ALL of them! I sobbed even more. I couldn't speak. I noticed the cashier/owner looking at me through the security mirror and I looked around and felt like I had gotten caught stealing or something. I whimpered and turned away. I walked in a circle around the isle of produce twice. I was sure this woman was going to call the cops on me. I walked right up to the counter to pay, with only 3.5 oz of dignity and 3.5 oz of sanity left, and emptied my basket on the belt (no sweet bread). She waited. I paused, ready to assure her I hadn't stolen anything but a glance. The knot in my throat was still not letting me speak. Then she tells me in Spanish, "you can use food stamps". Huh? "No, no, I have money" I said thinking she was accusing me of stealing and I yanked out my check card. "Lonestar food stamp carta (-card)?" she asked again. "No, no, VISA Check Card! No, no VISA tarjeta! Carta! Card!" I said again and again. I was confused and rushed out. It finally dawned on me. She didn't think I was stealing. I must have just looked that hungry and that longingly at the bread that she thought I didn't have money for it or wanted to console me by telling me I could use my "food stamps" for it. I think she was going to offer it for free if I hand't insisted on "no, no, VISA CHECK CARTA/CARD/TARJETA!" 



Lessons Learned:
1. You can walk away.
2. You can be sad.
3. In TX, they accept food stamps for Mexican sweet bread.
4. A Mexican will pity a hungry desperate Salvadorean.
5. It's OK to look, it's ok to cry but leave before they call the police. 
6. The HCG Diet is difficult.
7. We can do this difficult diet! 


Lose on ladies, lose on. 


Picture from the frugal law student.