For the past two months, I’ve been on a no-carb diet.

No bread. No pasta. No sugar. None.

Then today, I woke up late after being chased by protestors all night. I fell behind on work, I didn’t have gas in my car, my dog and my apartment are dirty (I’m a super clean freak so this really bothers me), my uncle died, my nails are chipped, I’m this close to growing a unibrow, I’ve got to pack up to go to Alabama tomorrow and all I had in my apartment was whey protein shakes and coffee.

And then at 10 a.m. it hit me. “Insert a bad word here, I need some bread.”

So, I got Chik-Fil-A.

And it was good.

Then I had the pumpkin pie latte at the Cotton Mill Deli.

It was better.

Then for dinner I had the Tostito hint of lime chips.

Let’s back up. I’ve always been self-conscious about my weight. I was a little chubby growing up and I never remember not being on a diet. In college I even had an eating disorder and ended up weighing 88 pounds.

I compulsively count calories. I don’t remember the last time I went over 1,200 (the recommended value for a dieting woman).

Except today. I ate a candy bar. I’m writing this before I go to get dessert with a sweet friend who understands when I call crying saying “I just want a roll.”

I’m thankful for those friends, too.

But more specifically, today I am thankful that the good lord provided us with carbohydrates and comfort foods to calm our nerves and fill our bellies.

The first step of not overeating is to not fix your problems with food, and I don’t normally. But I did today.

And it was good.