Pizza, my nemesis

The last meal I ate before prepping for weight loss surgery was pizza--about half a pie.  At my heaviest and most depressed I had pizza ordered in at least once and sometimes 3 times a week.  Even before I gained 200 lbs, my "sweet sixteen" party consisted of pizza, and a cake that looked just like--you guessed it--pizza.  So yeah, you can say I have a problem with it.  And I just learned that my old nemesis is rearing it's ugly, cheese-covered head.

Here's what's going down.  Tomorrow I am going to a "lunch-and-learn" seminar on asphalt (this is NOT the exciting part).  I should explain.  Somehow I became our company's "Facilities Manager" in addition to "HR Guru of General HR Stuff"  (known in other circle as an HR Generalist).  I also have discovered that I am our "Safety Manager" (little did they know I'm the clutziest one out there), "Event Planner", "Front Reception Manager", "Chair Wrangler", and probably a million other things I don't even know I'm supposed to be doing.  That's how non-profits work.  Anyhoo, as the "Facilities Manager" I have to find a solution to our parking lot potholes, which may or may not house the body of Jimmy Hoffa at the bottom--they are so deep I can only speculate.  My point is that I'm going to this silly thing against my will, and I'm going to have to have a coffee enema to stay awake during the "learn" portion.

So, back to the "lunch" portion of the day.  Knowing that I have some peculiarities as far as food goes right now, I called them to get details on the lunch to see if I should just bring my own.  That's right--I'm stylin', I'm proactive, I'm losing weight and feelin' good, and I'm taking care of business.  Her response to me?  "I think we'll probably just order pizza."  (insert record scratch noise, followed by crickets). 

Now I know that I could probably eat 1/2 a piece, or even just the sauce, cheese, and toppings off a whole piece.  But I don't think I'm ready to open that door.  Hell, even just typing "sauce" "cheese" and "toppings" in the same sentence has me foaming at the mouth.  I know that there is going to be a whole lot more time where I will have to fight the food from hell, and maybe I should wait as long as possible before getting into the ring with it.  This is the sensible thing to do, right?

Folks, I am scared of this food.  I am scared silly.  What if the smell is too tempting?  What if I eat it and get sick?  Or worse, what if I eat it and I don't get sick?  People with normal relationships to food probably don't even know what I'm talking about.  The rest of you are probably shuddering with your own food fear issues.

So tell me, what do you worry about?  What makes you lose control?  I'll show you mine if you show me yours.

I'll update you tomorrow on how it goes.  Unless the beast gets the best of me.  Wish me luck...