Today I donated blood. It is something I do on a regular basis at work. It makes me feel better and helps the world in a small way. And if I didn’t do it regularly at work the medical vampires (AKA blood donation organizations) would still bother me via phone and email since I have O negative blood. It is a time to chat with strangers about what I do for a living. It gives me an opportunity to hone my skills of describing what I do for a living to people who have no idea that it was even a job you could do. It is also fun sometimes to sit and chat with random coworkers whom you don’t always interact with on a daily basis. Mostly I do it for the cookies. I don’t buy cookies at the store. I have zero self control around cookies. I am literally a cookie monster and it is the fault of my parents. We very rarely had cookies or any sweets in the house growing up. They are not good for you. We understood that, it was the same with soda and sugar cereal. It wasn’t as if we were being deprived or punished, my parents just wanted us to make healthy choices. Plus that crap is expensive. The other problem is that it creates a massive opportunity for the unequal distribution of highly desired items among siblings. Being the oldest meant that I had a height advantage over my brothers and sister (cookies were stored up high on the fridge or in cabinets), although they quickly adapted alternative strategies such as using chairs or climbing. So what would happen was very much like a swarm of piranhas. If the cookies were unopened (AKA a health normal fish) it would remain untouched, perhaps for days. Until such time as someone got desperate enough to open the bag (take the first bite out of the fish). This would start a massive frenzy attack on the bag, but only if no one was watching. Within minutes of being opened, any bag of cookies in our house disappeared. Gone. Later there would be a lineup. Who ate the cookies? The standard answer was I only had two. Always I only had two. Meanwhile, oreo or hydrox or nuttybutter crumbs are stuck to your shirt and your breath smells of cookies. This leads me to life on my own. Where I buy my own groceries. I don’t buy cookies because I know, even though there is no competition in my house I will eat the whole box, in a day, without thinking, like a piranha after a wounded fish. Cookies gone. So lesson learned, I don’t buy cookies. Which is perhaps why I look forward to giving blood, as I can grab cookies in a small pack and not feel bad about it. No one thinks you are a cookie piranha if you eat 4 oreos.
So today I gave blood, and afterwards I was looking forward to having a cookie (oreos, lornadoone, and fig newtons were the choices). Figured I would grab some fig newtons and take some oreo home for Sara. It was truly a test of magnanimity and will to even consider doing this. It is also a testament to how much I love Sara in that I am willing to give her “my” cookies. Well, even though I was going to eat cookies, I was thinking I would make the healthy choice and eat the fig newtons. They seem healthier. I was wrong. Looking initially at the calories I saw 100 versus 160 for newton v. oreo. But what I didn’t realize was that the newton serving size was two. Oh you evil newtons. You almost had me believing that you were a better choice. Instead you were more calories, more sugar, and no extra nutritional value. I was almost duped into eating a second rate cookie, just because it looked healthier on the package. Newtons are fig – right, fig is a fruit – fruit is healthy. There is no way I could eat just one of the newtons and leave the other one. THat is not how my brain operates. Open cookies eat cookies. It is instinct, like a piranha. Swim-Eat-Swim-Eat. Well I ate the oreos. And I had an apple. And I feel unsatiated. On my desk are the newtons and some lornadoones. It is currently taking all my will power not to eat them. They are still wrapped, which helps. Hopefully I hold out.