Pie. 11/20/04
I have burnt my tongue on mincemeat pie.
At first, I was going to spend my lunch hour walking to a store and then shopping for warm fuzzy blue socks and silky new nylons. Then it occurred to me that buying socks is boring, so I was going to just walk somewhere and get a big diet soda. Then I convinced myself that it really would be alright to get a light meal.
So I walked the very short distance over to Marie Callender’s and had a big lunch. I got full before finishing it, which surprised me, I am so used to thinking of my stomach as a bottomless pit. I hate feeling full. Today, anyway. At other times I have longed to stuff myself full. But that longing for fullness happens after I’ve been starving myself for a while, and I sure haven’t been doing much of anything but EAT lately. Crap.
I thought that planning out my lunch hour before taking off out the door would help keep me from binging. But no. Apparently, the whims of my stomach can completely discard my plans for shopping or diet soda purchasing and I find myself bolting down too much food before I really know what has happened.
So here I am with a burnt tongue, a ruined diet plan, and the probably vain hopes of starting over (yet AGAIN) tomorrow.
Here’s to the holidays -– Eating to excess, rampant materialistic commercialism, uncomfortable family gatherings and freezing temperatures. Whee. I can hardly wait.
I will create my own peace, joy, holiday spirit, presents, special treats, magic. Immerse myself in things that make me happy and create some good memories despite all the awkwardness that the holidays generally bring.
Maybe that’s what I was trying to do by treating myself to mincemeat pie. But it didn’t work. I just feel fat and awful.
