Walmart has boxes of cereal, name brand cereal, called Mega size. Last night I tucked a bright orange, 31.2 ounce box of Reese’s Puffs under my arm and brought it to bed with me. I knew I wanted to add to the extra milk at the bottom of my enormous bowl a little at a time, many, many times. Then I drank as much of the milk as I could before it made me sick, fell asleep, and dreamt about Wanda carrying around a live copperhead. I awoke this morning with a sore mouth, dirty dishes in my room (which I read is no good for one’s mental state), and no remorse.
Because I have an upcoming trip, I am stress eating. I don’t sad eat, nervous eat, or eat when I’m depressed, I only stress eat. Like, when the trip is over, I will have something really decadent to celebrate, like a double Filet-O-Fish with extra tartar and cheese, hate myself, then go back to my normal Weight Watchers to find balance once again. (It really is a wonderful way to ensure your body gets what it needs. I highly recommend the program and the app.)
I have small, purple foil chunks of Dove dark chocolate in my desk drawer which normally I can ignore, but now I can’t. I am certain there is still homemade ice cream in the fridge that I hid, and today there is half-and-half and a hefty dump of white sugar in my to-go coffee for work. I still am exercising, but I do feel puffy, not enough to make any changes until after the trip, but enough to remind myself that this cannot last.
It’s madness I tell you.