1/4 piece of a Killer Brownie from Dorothy Lane Market eaten at today’s workadoo holiday potluck + 1 spoonful gooey macaroni + dollop of oreo cream puddy pie =
I never fucking eat this stuff any more.
There’s this moment of loss and longing, after you eat it, realizing that you’re just never going to eat the way you used to, ever again.
Yeah yeah, eating to excess is bad, blah blah blah, but you know what? I liked my holiday indugences. I liked being able to eat a whole bag of potato chips if I felt like it. I liked eating three bagels in an afternoon on occasion. I liked sitting around eating chocolates and watching mindless tv.
I didn’t used to do these things all the time, obviously, but if I *wanted* to, the option was there. Sure, I still *could* eat a whole bag of potato chips, but I’ll have a headache for an hour, my whole body will slow down to a crawl, and it’ll send my sugar into a low/high rollercoaster that’ll take me a week to get back under control.
The sense of joy and delight associated with eating really good food to excess just isn’t there anymore.
Some other life.