My mouth watering, I ran toward the sink.
I can make it, I thought.
I have to make it.
It was the second time that day.
I'd made it the time before. I could do it again.
I got to the sink and thrust the faucet handle up as fast as I could.
The water came gushing out and filled the bowl in seconds.
I grabbed for the dish soap and gave the bottle a hard squeeze.
Relief washed over me.
I'd done it.
I'd made two different desserts.
And I hadn't eaten any part of them.
I'd taken the bowl with the gooey, rich, decadent batter, and before I could succumb to the consuming desire to openly lick the contents therein, filled it with water and soap preventing myself from giving in.
I had made a commitment to myself and I kept it.
I beat the beast.