Day One of my vow not to eat pastries: miserable failure.

Pastries eaten: 3.

Number of backs that feel better after eating said pastries, despite this being the convincing reason for such indulgence: 0

Must get back to remedy-producing drawing-board.

Number of smiles produced in past 10 minutes by smelling my yellow roses: 2

Must peace-keeping flowers still smell so sweet? Would prefer holding valiant passionate grudge instead of having insides turned to girly mush by oldest trick in the book.