With one week to go, it is more difficult than ever to stay focused. For example, I'm taking my family on a hayride Saturday night, and the highlight every year — for me — is s'mores by the bonfire. I believe s'mores made by a bonfire taste different than s'mores made on my grill. The singed eyebrows and burnt fingers add to the experience somehow. And yet my diet runs through Monday, so I shall have no s'mores. Imagine the thought process: Saturday will be day 138. I will have been on this diet for 137 days at that point, with only two more days to go. What's one gooey marshmallowy chocolatey treat at that point? Of course, if that logic works for day 138, why not day 135? Or day 100? The standard I've adopted is that I can endure just about anything for 20 weeks, though I did make one exception in week 18.

I spent a long weekend in New England, a part of the country in which I've never vacationed, and in which I may never find myself again. In my mind, New England is inextricably linked with clam chowder, so I decided that I would have a small amount of clam chowder. I'd been on the diet for more than sixteen weeks at that point, and had done far better than I could have dreamed when I started, but most importantly, this was a rare-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me. I'd never "cheat" with barbecue or anything else I could get here in my home state, but I've never been to Boston, and might never be again.

While sitting down with my brother in the bar where the exterior shots for Cheers were filmed, the rationalization began. I was already planning to cheat by eating clam chowder. Most recipes have more carbohydrates in a half-cup than I usually allow myself all day, so that's a definite cheat. Since I'm already cheating, why not add a pint of stout? The logic here is suspect, I know, but I was hungry by this time, and I was a tourist in a tourist trap. I'd been walking for hours, and would walk for hours more, burning calories all day long. I told myself that this would be a valuable opportunity to demonstrate for you, dear readers, what happens when I don't just bend the rules, but flat-out break them. A mug of clam chowder might have put me over my daily limit, but that mug plus a beer certainly would. I caught myself buying the rationalization and laughed about it, then ordered a pint of Guinness anyway. No rationalizations, just an acceptance that I was going to blow the diet for the day, and would enjoy it.

As a result, I can now tell you what happened to my weight loss, but that is completely secondary to my enjoyment of that Saturday. I was also very careful for the rest of the day, to attempt to keep my total carbohydrate intake from skyrocketing too high.