Yes, it was me. It was me who opened the bag of trail mix last night in the dark kitchen after everyone else had gone to bed. The crinkle of the bag as I tried to rip it open seemed to threaten to open the eyes of my children despite the many rooms and closed doors between it and them. I had to pull the plastic up slowly, wincing as I did, willing it to be quiet.
I eat very well--what I should, and no more or less than I should--throughout the day. Paleo type of food, with Zone quantities. I've eaten this way since the first of the year, and I've lost 12 pounds. Enough so that I don't feel like I have to ignore these late-night munchie desires every night.
I opened the bag--it precariously sat on the counter, unzipped from top to bottom so that I could pick out the only thing I wanted. I pushed the raisins and peanuts aside and tried to avoid even one cashew. I just wanted to M&M-look-a-likes. I couldn't see the light and dark brown ones in the dark kitchen, only the green, red, yellow, and orange ones. So I gobbled them up, trying to find each and every one of them before...
...and then he shuffled out, just in boxers, looking for me.
...before my husband found me, I was going to say. But he did. And one look from him told me that I shouldn't have been doing what I was doing. Sigh. He said nothing, just gave me a Look that was some mix between tired and frustrated and confused. He shook his head and turned around, and walked back to our bedroom, where I knew he thought I should already be.
I found a few more brightly colored M&Ms in the dark before sighing myself, throwing the rest away, and going to bed.