my Regime

My french word of the day is...régime.
I want to make it an ugly color because it is an ugly word. Three weeks of eating french pastry at every whim and fancy and I have finally decided I need to diet. Therefore, today I started my "Good Choices Only... but I can have dessert with dinner" diet (G.C.O.- the real south beach and adkins... none of that no carbs, all meat fluffernutter). Anyway, so things were going really well. When I get my mind on something, I'm pretty good about it. Lunch rolled around and my friend Catherine and I went to the school caf to save money. And they don't have any french cafe cookies so I ran into no problems there. And after school, I went to the grocery store to store up on apples and bananas. When I got home, I was so proud of myself, I had one piece of chocolate... shoot me, I've been great all day. 
Dinner time rolls around, and passes. And I'm hungry. But have yet to be called for dinner. So I did my usual, casual stroll downstairs which turns into the hover... Waiting. My "mom" offered for me to eat right then, but I would have to eat alone. I said "Heck yes woman, feed me." So I sat there, and told her how much I loved soup, while she served me soup. And then delicious eggplant and rice. And then, she asked if I wanted cheese. And I started to panic... cheese means no dessert. It means no chocolate for Meghan. I said... ok? and took the smallest piece (hint hint). She offered me fruit.... ok? I took the smallest clementine. Then, she left the room. Noooooooooooooo. 
So I asked the dad if there was a little chocolate, I wanted something sweet. This man gets me. He loves chocolate more than I. He said of course and pulled out the dark chocolate. But watched me as I took a small piece and retreated to my room. And here, it is depressing and chocolateless (I threw out any and all junk food in my room two days ago... which at that point was a pack of mentoes and some chocolate). 
But no, don't feel bad and send me candy. Seriously (I'm talking to you, Anna). I'm going through my detox period. It'll pass. 
Again on the family front, the two oldest daughters got in a HUGE spat yesterday. It got awkward. They are the only two on the same floor as me. I heard a lot of yells, and doors opening and closing. One kept going, "Shh, Meghan is sleeping." I wanted to call out, "No I'm not, don't worry, carry on" but felt a bit awkward. Mean names were called out, doors were slammed again, followed by some very loud sobs. 
But now they are best friends again, being freaking loud and screaming and laughing. Shh. I'm writing my blog, please!
Glad I don't have sisters, jeez. Thanks for being a boy, Peter. 


And good thing I ate earlier, it is 8:45 p.m. and they haven't even sat down yet. suckers.