The Herald, June 2014
As I lay in bed I plan and plot for the next day.
What I would eat, what I would avoid.
How many pounds would I miraculously melt away?
Rice cakes.
Those crunchy glued cardboard rounds.
Yogurt and wheat germ.
A cracker or two and a handful of raisins.
A tablespoon of tuna.
A palm sized piece of chicken (the palm of a small child).
I lay my head down and smile.
“I will do this; I will do this,” I chant as I drift off to sleep.
Dreams of monster cakes filled with decadent creams.
Éclairs, with skinny little legs are chasing me down.
I trip over a cupcake and fall face down in the river.
I swallow mouthfuls of creamy fudge as my middle expands.
I try to get up but the gooey chocolate sucks me in deeper.
All too soon I awake to the buzz of the alarm.
With a gnawing emptiness inside I greet the day.
I shower.
I dress.
I venture off to work with my little lunch bag I had
packed last night.
I reach in and grab a rice cake.
The flat, lifeless taste leaves me wanting.
I plop myself down at my desk and immediately I am
struck by the sweet aroma of donuts.
I wave ‘no’ as my colleague offers me the
scrumptious sprinkled delight.
“Don’t tempt me,” I exclaim, “I am on a diet.”
A saddened hush comes over the office.
My belly breaks the silence with a long, low growl.
A speck of tuna – barely three mouthfuls.
The salty crunch of a celery stick, and another rice cake.
I toss a few raisins in my mouth for desert and head
back to work.
I feel the pity of my co-workers as they try to shield me
from their fat laden lunches.
As the clock strikes five, I decide to join my peers at
Happy Hour.
One white wine spritzer won’t hurt, I convince myself.
I am only going for the camaraderie. Really!
As I park my car I glance in the rear view window.
I promise myself again, “Only one and then home.”
I join my crew and with a smile order my spritzer.
Oh, what luck! It is two-fer Tuesday!
As the bartender hands me both glasses I try to
convince myself they are small glasses.
I sit back and take a sip. Ummm.
A calming effect takes over me.
Out of the corner of my eye I watch the waiters bring
out the happy hour delights.
Myself and I talked me into walking over to the massive
spread ‘just to see’ what was on the menu.
I took a deep breath.
When I came to I was licking sauce off my fingers.
I glanced down to see a small mountain of empty clam shells,
a pile of chicken wing bones and remnants of meatballs.
All amidst an array of sauces.
My mind cried out “What have I done?”
The smell of real food had sent me into a blackout
where I devoured platefuls of food.
Delicious, delectable, and devilishly fatty foods.
Like a piranha I had whittled it all down to the bones and shells.
I had oinked through it all.
I caught my image in the mirror and quickly turned away in shame.
I was part of a feeding frenzy not unlike a pack of wild dogs.
In anguish I quickly finished what looked like my fourth spritzer.
I sheepishly bid farewell to my comrades.
Unaware of my blackout binge, the sent me off with smiles.
Bloated and remorseful I made it home.
I changed and brushed my teeth.
I got in bed early.
Foiled again!
As I lay in bed,
I plotted and planned.
What foods I would eat and what I would avoid.
The vicious cycle continues.
