Binge blog

WARNING: What follows is not pretty or dignified; it's barely human.

You know that episode of Sex in the City where Miranda eats the cake out of the trash barrel and then calls Carrie and leaves her a message about possibly having to check her friend into the Betty Crocker Clinic? Season 4, Episode 52. Well, I've been a little stressed lately. A March meltdown is on the horizon (workshop - Paul visit - London - conference - NY - Philly - conference - Paul's sister and husband in NY - NY - workshop - conference). I know I chose sociology as a career and so that suggests a certain amount of interest, but 3 conferences in 3 weeks in 3 different cities is a little too much sociology, even for me. And you know how when you get stressed all the little problems snowball, and I've just been so frustrated by the lack of body modification the gym has produced, so I did the most obvious thing - self sabotage.

I was sitting in class last night fantasizing about food. It wasn't hunger, just a craving, but what would satisfy it? I got it in my head that I wanted Bugles. (Yes, I know that my sister is the pregnant one, I'm just a fat ass). I went to the super market and walked around like a zombie with a bag of lettuce in my hands ogling all the various treats - the savory section with Wavy Lays, Sun Chips and Smartfood; the sweet section with gummy peaches, York Peppermint Patties, and Entenmann's Glazed Popems; the baking section with brownies, brownies and more brownies. I successfully walked out with just the lettuce, but that was the extent of my short lived victory of willpower.

When I got home I ate (this is after dinner, mind you), within the space of an hour and a half, a 100 calorie pouch of Goldfish, an apple with peanut butter, 4 pieces of cornbread with soy butter, several large scoops of whipped vanilla frosting out of the tub, and some leftover honey almond granola cereal.

I need help.