Binge

Welp, I had a bingefest at work this morning. The drug reps brought in a bunch of keto-friendly things, such as pans of bacon, eggs and sausage patties in addition to the fruit and home fries, and I binged on sausage. I attempted to estimate what I ate, and I logged it into MyPlate, and I’ve got my daily calories already. What’s more, I feel sick to my stomach, both physically from eating 8 goddamn sausage patties, and emotionally-mentally from the self-loathing Continue reading Binge

Stress Cravings

I first noticed the intensity of my stress cravings when my first daughter was a toddler. My, oh, my, was she a pistol. At the time, I was also pregnant with our second child, so my hands were full – usually of squirming 2 year-old.  One day, when I’d taken her to Story Time at the local library,  she’d been especially lively. The librarians had a felt board set up and were using it to tell nursery rhymes. They had little felt characters that would stick to the board and could be removed and repositioned easily. During a regaling of “Little Bo Peep,” one of the librarians asked for a volunteer of the toddlers to help with the felt board characters. My daughter jumped up, ran up, snatched a little felt sheep off the board and ran around our section of the library, giggling madly and waving the sheep in the air while being chased by a librarian and a pregnant me. Continue reading Stress Cravings

The Great Chocolate Easter Bunny Massacre

There comes a time in each of our lives when we must be honest with ourselves. These little gems of “self-honesty” serve as personal revelations every bit as meaningful as any religious experience one may have on a mountaintop or hallucinating in the wilderness for 40 days and 40 nights. For me, it came during one Holy Week, that week of high holy days beginning with Palm Sunday and culminating in the glorious spectacle of Easter. Not particularly religious, I was visited with an annunciation of my own, nonetheless.

Merely a month after my husband had demanded a divorce, I remained firmly lodged in denial, filled with utter certainty that I could effect a reconciliation through sheer force of will. Having packed the kids off to my sister-in-law’s for a long-anticipated overnight stay, I bought a bottle of my husband’s favorite wine, prepared some delicacies and lit some candles to set the appropriate mood. Thus loaded for bear, I waited for him to come home.

The minutes ticked past in larger increments until he finally entered, 45 minutes later than even on his latest days. My mood nearly as dark as the twilight sky, I sat in flickering light, frozen with a glass of Rioja in my hand, hors d’oeuvres cooling on the damask-draped coffee table and waited for him to come upon this awkward tableau. Continue reading The Great Chocolate Easter Bunny Massacre