Tacos

Growing up in Southern California gave me a unique view on food.
aka--Mexican food is like ambrosia.
Seriously.
I could eat the stuff at any time of day.
But, it is not the best food when it comes to taking care of your waistline.
Beans, rice, tortilla, grilled chicken & steak, fish, guacamole, tortilla chips, salsa, sour cream, enchilada sauce, tamales, and the love that never ends for the delicious cheese that covers it all.
For the past 5 days I have been waging an internal battle against the demon inside that keeps saying, "Tacos."
That's it.  One word.
"Tacos."
Hmmm, what should I have for a snack?  "Tacos."
I am getting hungry for dinner.  What should I make?  "TACOS."
*wakes up* Breakfast time.  Let's make a smoothie.  "TACOS!!!"

I am not sure how much more of this I can take!  I should have just given in at the first few days, gotten a small taste of tacos, made in a healthy manner, and been done with it.  Now, I fear, I will gorge myself on the greasiest, most delicious, unhealthy, fastest version available to me at the moment I happen to snap in the moment of weakness.  I will sit there, with the taco wrappers littered around me while I cry out of joy for the happiness that my tongue enjoyed and the pure hell I will have to endure the next week at the gym just to counteract the shame of what I just did.  For tacos.
Sweet, lovely, tacos.

"Tacos."