“Peace of mind is that mental condition in which you have accepted the worst.”
– Lin Yutang
So true, isn’t it? Now that the baby thing is behind me, and I’ve accepted it, I can say that I am much more at peace. Funny how you find inspiration in the most unexpected places (in this case, my¬ dreaded day planner). This little blurb lifts me up, and then I read today’s to-do list, and I¬ slam right back down to earth. Somewhere, Stephen Covey is rubbing is bald head and smiling, for his prophecy of unending irony and guilt has been fulfilled.
At stressful times like this, when I have too much going on,¬ I can hear Vendoland’s sweet siren¬ song¬ calling my name like a lost sailor. In particular,¬ I hear a little ditty¬ coming from¬ the¬ Ding Dongs. The corn chips hold their own, churning out¬ a musical response not unlike the banjo duet in “Deliverance.”¬ But the most evil offender is, of course, the Snickers bar. He just sits back in the coil mechanism, humming “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.” He knows he’s the king of all candies, the right arm of Satan himself. He’s fully aware that there isn’t a person alive who hasn’t fallen¬ prey to his chocolatey charms. Fucking Snickers.
I would venture over there, to Vendoland, that is. But I believe it’s break time for the union guys. I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me and my back fat belly up to my enabler. I would much rather be seen¬ shooting up (not that I do that) than eating junk food in public.¬ Ya’ll know that fat people only eat apples,¬ edamame and Healthy Choice frozen meals, right?
Now tell me. How did this post so quickly move from an inspirational phrase to food? Further proof that indeed, I am a junkie. I am still in Weight¬ Watchers (14 pounds lost). And I am still planning on weight loss surgery (it’ll be about four months from now, I’m told). But¬ I still have these moments. And I imagine I always will.
There is most definitely something wrong with me when it comes¬ to food.¬ Maybe I should pick up a hobby, like glueing together model hot rods or coin collecting. Maybe not coin collecting. You just know¬ that in a moment of desperation, I’d be¬ dropping a vintage Susan B. worth $50 in the vending machine for some Nibs or something. And yes, it would’ve been worth it.¬ The lion must have her kill. (Cue “Circle of Life.”) OK,¬ we’ve officially come back to babies.¬ My work here is done.¬ (Music up full, with wicked pan flute solo.)¬ ¬ ¬