A special treat I like on days when I've trained for two hours or more is a slice of light rye bread with a healthy (and by "healthy" here I mean "this thick") layer of pure lovely golden butter on it. Today I ran 4K in the morning and did 45 minutes of heavy bag punching in the afternoon followed, two hours later, by another 45 minutes of weights and cardio. That's not quite two hours but I worked especially hard hitting the bags (I'm really trying to extend my punches) and the weights class was a good challenge so I thought to myself, Hey, self, since you ate super freakish clean all day, go ahead and treat yourself to a small slice of heavily buttered bread.

I gobbled it lustily. I love bread and butter like it's a sin. Which it is, I suppose.

Yum, awesome, let's move on to making the kids' dessert, which tonight is sugar bread (take brown sugar, add heavy cream and mix, add small chunks of bread and eat). And lo, I see that their bread - which comes from the same loaf I just used for mine - is moldy.

Ew!

Well, not really. If I'm honest I have to admit that I didn't taste anything different. Maybe my slice didn't have blue spots. I certainly didn't see any. But still, my treat is now retroactively ruined. I did manage to resist making myself another one to make up for the mold, but that took a good slice of discipline.

Maybe it's my fairy godmother sending me memos about my carb intake (honestly, fairy godmother, I'm being good most of the time). Maybe it's karma. But pschaw, if they think they can successfully keep me away from my carbo-fatty treats, they are wrong.