I miss cheese.

In my new life, there is very little room for cheese. For bread, either, but the one that gets me is cheese. (Or I should say, that one that got me into this mess is cheese.) Cheesy goodness is in everything, which means: not for me.

We're meeting some friends for brunch this morning the typically Austin, run-by-hippies (yet-there-are-no-egg-white-options-for-omelets on the menu*) Magnolia Cafe, so I checked the restaurant's menu ahead of time to see what I could have. I find that if I have a plan going in, I am more likely to follow it instead of saying, "I'll have the buttermilk pancakes, extra butter." On the menu I find lots of omelet options, but no egg-white substitution (perhaps you just have to ask?). And all of them contain jack or cheddar cheese. Breakfast taco? Cheese and regular eggs. Pancakes? One million points, plus you have to have syrup or something to put on them. So.

This ignites the age-old argument within: what is cheese worth? Is it worth standing on the scale tomorrow and seeing no change? Because tomorrow-me is always pissed at the choices yesterday-me made. Is it worth the temporary taste? Yes and no. Will it make me sad to have to order, instead, off the a la cart menu: English muffin, fruit, black beans. Yes and no. Will I be glad I did that later? Yes and yes.

This is what the rest of my life will look like. I guess I'm late to the party because I'm pretty sure this is what everyone's life is supposed to look like. Make good choices. Be healthy. It's not a secret formula. Unfortunately, this just dawned on me at age 33. Fortunately, every day counts. As do the 52.5 lbs I no longer schlep around.

Suck it, cheese.

*Update: yes, there are egg-white options. Saved!