In my most recent reincarnation, I see myself as a person of self-control. In control of my emotions, my destiny, my life ... my appetite.
Over the last several months, I started to get the sneaking suspicion that I had gained some weight, and when I finally screwed up the courage to step on the scale the other morning, this was confirmed. I had gained 7 pounds since I started back to work in late October. I blame this on the fact that I sit on my ass for 8 or 9 hours a day, plus the fact that I tend to eat more during the winter for some fucking reason. Maybe it's instinct or something.
So, in the last couple of days, I've tried to make a conservative effort to cut down on my eating. If I were really serious, I'd start exercising too, but even though I have several pieces of expensive exercise equipment in the basement, I'm not that desperate yet.
This morning marked the last day for one of our group at work, who is going on to greener pastures, if your idea of said pastures is selling optical cable ... but everyone has their dreams. My department doesn't put out food very often, but when they do, it's just way too much. We all got together and wished this person good luck, and then I snuck back to my cube without touching a bit of food. I was very proud of myself.
Proud of myself until 20 minutes later when the group dispersed, but the food remained. I tried to stop myself, but something drew me to the table on the other side of the room, where a spread of cakes and bagels and breads were laid out. Plus donuts ... tasty donuts, with chocolate icing ... and sprinkles. I looked around to see if anyone was looking at me, and then I grabbed one and scurried back to my desk, where I wolfed it down.
Damn. That tasted good. And I'm still hungry. I think I'll go get another one. So I did. And that one tasted good too. But I waited 10 minutes this time, and then raced over and back with another donut.
Okay, I've had three donuts now, and I thought that would hold me. So I sat down to work, But the food laden table beckoned me once more. Fuck it ... I've already had three donuts, it certainly won't matter if I have one more, so I did ....
But it did. Matter, that is. You know how you eat something, and it doesn't seem like it's made any difference at all to your hunger, and you just keep eating? And then it's like all of that food was just holing up someplace above your stomach, just waiting? And then the last bit of food comes in, and it all drops into your belly at one time?
Not pleasant. I spent the rest of the day sick to my stomach, and tonight I feel like someone rammed a filling station air hose up my ass and turned it on full blast.
But I know that by the time I get up tomorrow morning, that the feeling will have subsided, and I can reincarnate myself once more ... as a person of self-control.
Except there's a ginormous pizza in the refrigerator that we are having for dinner tomorrow night, and I know the same thing is going to happen again.