Reminder: your body is not a garbage can.

Here's a good one for you.

So, remember the box of food I threw out two weeks ago? What a great process, right? It was like breaking up with an old boyfriend, but it had to be done. Check. On to the next thing.

But my trash men (or, God doing funny things through my trash men) had other things in mind.

Trash day is Friday. Every Friday. No problem. And you take the big green bin to the curb, they dump it, whatever. Now I have trashed lots of things that aren't bagged. Never ONCE in three years has trash not been picked up.

Except two weeks ago, the trash men took everything in my green trash bin. Except for my box of food. When I got back from work Friday night, I pulled my bin to my house. I opened up the lid to make sure it was empty. And they had taken EVERYTHING but my box of food.

Weird. But I had to laugh. I made the decision to toss all those treats and say goodbye forever! But now, even the trash men wouldn't take it.

Then yesterday. I took the trash out. ALL the trash. Some bagged, some not bagged, whatever. Then last night, I go to the curb, bring back the bin. And you guessed it. They took everything BUT the box of food!

I can't figure it out. I don't know why it happened other than to make me laugh. Mostly because last night, I had to turn my trash bin upside down and physically bag up all my FAVORITE junk food that had now been in 90 degree heat for two weeks. Milk duds turned deadly, sour patch kids proved their name, and it turns out there are some things that I just won't do for a liquid Klondike bar.

Sorry, no more food puns.

My friend Mariette was the first person that I ever opened up to about my weight. We started Weight Watchers together and were successful at it. I remember during one teary conversation she told me "Your body is not a garbage can." Meaning...those "clean plate club" and "there are starving children in Africa" excuses that we make to eat beyond being full is just like treating our bodies like garbage cans.

Did God use my trash men to give me a few more weeks to REALLY get what I did? To REALLY show me that the stuff I am using to numb my pain and satisfy my soul will make me sick and is the ultimate cause of the same pain I am trying to medicate?

Or maybe those guys just saw that box of rotten klondike bars and said "Hey, I might be a trash man, but there's still some stuff I won't touch."

So if my trash men won't touch it, I guess it's time for me to stop eating it.

-Liz

(p.s. I sort of wish I could ruin your day by having a way that you could smell these pictures. Gag-worthy indeed.)