It was going to be a long day: work, then part-time night job. I valiantly packed two Tupperware containers, each with meat and beans, one for lunch and another dinner. For breakfast some sourdough bread with a thin slice of prosciutto. An orange for a mid-morning snack. Yes, sensible rations for the day.
On the way to work I stop at Crumbs for iced coffee. This is a reasonable thing to do. They've had a special: 99 cents for any size. And I need coffee. If I don't get it by noon, a piercing headache develops. I will not be hard on myself for this well-deserved and cheap treat. And really, coffee is more a necessity than a treat.
Eleven in the morning rolls around, and my stomach starts to grumble. I am bored. My job is painfully stupid. It's nice outside. I need to get out, move around for a little while. And oh, my stomach is grumbling. And oh, what is the only way to steer one's attention away from one's soul crushing job? A treat.
I walk down to a French bakery and procure an almond croissant. The amount of butter contained in this heavenly delight would shock even the likes of Paula Dean before she knew Diabetes was a disease that existed. But for a short period I am happy.
Later in the afternoon, I am bored. What's that in my pocket? Oh, it's a dollar. Now, there are vending machines a short walk away. A little while later I am back in my office with a Peanut Butter Snickers. Rich and chocolately and delicious. I feel better. For a while.
Get to part-time job around 5:30. I have my meat and beans. But come on, one needs a beverage. A ginger ale would be a fine way to wash down those beans, and so a ginger ale, a true gentleman's beverage, is purchased and consumed.
Ok. My day of eating is done. Yes, there were a few slips, but these things happen.
The train ride home. Wow, it's been a long, hard day. I'm exhausted. I did a really good job tonight. You know what, it would be fun to get a treat! There is a 16 Handles on the walk home, and some frozen yogurt piled high with mini-chocolate peanut butter cups sounds good.
STOP. You've had enough. This is absolutely absurd. Why do you need all these treats? Get a hold of yourself! OK. I'll stop at the super market and get some watermelon - surely I deserve fruit. Ah yes, there it is, the watermelon. But wait? What is that over there? The dessert counter?
As I write this I stuff myself with "Tiramasu dessert," made with marscarpone cheese, heavy cream, fudge sauce, etc. It is a heavenly and decadent cream. I scoop it down my treat hole. I feel good. For now.
