The cookies called to her. Their voices were getting louder and more persuasive as time went on. She looked away, but desire forced her to look at them again. Finally, she broke down.
"I'll have two of those things," she said, pointing at chocolate covered vanilla wafers with chocolate cream and a macaroon on top.
She ate them slowly, trying to figure out how she'd forgive herself. She broke the rules. But it wasn't her fault. She was getting mixed signals. People would tell her that cookies were bad; cookies were of the devil and must never be eaten unless you drunk or otherwise out of your mind.
But then different people told her that it didn't matter; she could eat whatever she wanted and be just as loved. The media didn't matter; her super skinny friends didn't matter; all that mattered was how she felt.
Well, she felt horrible. How could she feel otherwise, when everyone told her that these cookies would be her undoing? She desperately wanted to believe the people who told her that cookies were good, but, through her own experience, she could not.
She tried to convince herself that just two cookies wouldn't do anything. It was only two, they didn't matter in the big scheme of things. But as she ate them she felt a sinking sensation; they would matter. And now it was too late. They were already eaten, and there was nothing she could do about it.
For the rest of the day she mentally tortured herself. How could she eat those cookies?! She gave in to temptation. She allowed herself to eat something which she knew would be her downfall. If she couldn't even resist a few cookies, how would she be able to resist a birthday cake? Or a bowl of ice cream? Or even a bag of chips? She had let herself down. She didn't deserve those cookies. And what about her goal? She was a goal-oriented person, after all.
But she couldn't help thinking, screw her goal. But then the next minute she thought, no.