I am in an absolute “limbo” state of mind. I have been depressed, unorganized, unhappy. My mind seems to be full of cobwebs. Nothing is clear. I have accomplished zilch around the house. Yet my desire to change is overwhelming. My soul aches for it.
I have been devilishly sick the last three nights. I cannot believe a human being with an even vaguely working brain would do to herself what I have done. I went grocery shopping Saturday and bought five candy bars, exclusively for me. I ate them all within ten minutes of arriving home. I also bought a one-pound box of Whoppers. A one-pound box! I ate most of the Whoppers within moments of downing the candy bars.
Then I was struck by a generous (or could it be guilty?) impulse. I decided to share a few of the remaining Whoppers with Allen, Jenny, and Tiffany. I counted fifteen each into sandwich bags for them. The four of us were going to the school play in which Jeremy had the lead. Of course, I packed myself a sandwich bag of Whoppers, too. Only mine held more than all theirs combined — and I’d already eaten most of the box!
I am ashamed to admit that the only reason I shared even one Whopper was to keep my family from smelling chocolate on my breath. If they were eating some, too, I would blend in with the crowd. And who would know that I had more candy than anyone else? In the dark auditorium, no one could count. Even in a well-lit room, Whoppers are a terrific “sneaker” candy.
“What is a sneaker candy?” you ask. If you have to ask, you are probably not fat. You can probably eat whatever you want, whenever you want, without worry of someone seeing fat ol’ you eating again! That’s why Whoppers are so handy for the fatty. You can sneak one plump Whopper through your lips with ease. No one notices!
When I arrived home from the play that night—oh, I am so embarrassed — I ate a whole box of Girl Scout cookies. I ate every last one of those chocolate-covered Caramel Delights! There were only fourteen cookies in the box, but they were overly rich, like candy bars.
I knew when I opened the box that I would eat each and every cookie. Even more important: I knew when I opened the box that I would be getting disgustingly sick from it! I knew! Yet I proceeded to open it. (Stop! Stop! You’re taking that last step over the edge of the cliff. Don’t open the box and you’ll be okay!)
Brother, did I get sick! It started in the middle of the night. I tossed. I turned. I tried not to vomit. I almost “drank” Rolaids. I was so ashamed, so ashamed. And yet… I did it again — only forty-eight hours later.
Early yesterday afternoon, I bought (and quickly devoured) four candy bars. Then last night, when the children were in bed and Allen was working downstairs in his office, I ate another whole box of Girl Scout cookies — this time Thin Mints. There are twenty-one cookies in each Thin Mints box. I kept telling myself that eating mint cookies was kinda like eating Rolaids. Surely I wouldn’t get sick from mint! Ha! My stomach was churning so violently last night, it could have made butter. My intense nausea kept me awake for hours.
I will never do that again. Never! I am thirty-six years old. I refuse to ever again gorge on goodies to the point of nausea. Here and now, I stop this downward descent that leads directly to misery and slavery. Talk about the gaping jaws of hell! I’ve been hanging over them long enough. This poor, frayed rope to which I am clinging cannot possibly hold one more ounce of me.