Sometimes I spend time feeling sorry for myself. I try to avoid it, but it happens. I feel sorry for myself because I can't eat like other people can - even like many of my family members can. I feel sorry for myself because what I would really like to have for breakfast this morning is a triple decker hot fudge sundae. And that's not on the plan. But a weekend like this past one shocks me back into perspective. All you have to do is take a look at the headlines - the oil spill still threatening and ruining the beaches in the Gulf, still endangering and killing so much wildlife, the article in the paper about the boy just graduated - only child of a single mom - killed in a senseless car accident, people around the world who live in constant and chronic poverty - - - and somehow my little need for a sundae looks a bit ridiculous. I know that it's all relative and that we each of us respond to the world according to our own path through it - but I do need to remember how small this problem I have is. I have a problem with food - with abusing food - that makes me gain weight and threatens my health (and threatens my self image as all those extra pounds are unattractive) This problem is within my own power to fix. The rest of my life? Great. Challenging work, funny and quirky and delightful and creative family, laughter daily - sometimes hourly - - - so, do I really have the right to feel sorry for myself about this one thing? Not really. Will I? Sure. The very next time I want something and can't have it. But I'll try to remember a little bit faster than I have been - that this, in the grand scheme of things, is a very small, very workable, very fixable problem.