today was a 5 donut day ["doughnut" if you prefer].
i know i'm a big girl. i know my family has rampant diabetes and heart disease. i know my knees and ankles ache playing racquetball. and we all know i get winded just walking across campus... yet i still ate 5 donuts. that's a whole 5 donuts more than i needed, and if i had a partridge, or pears on a tree, i'd probably eat them too.
why? because i'm a big girl and my family has rampant diabetes and heart disease and my knees and ankles ache playing racquetball and i get winded just walking across campus.
i know it doesn't make sense. believe me, it doesn't really make any more sense to me. eat to live, don't live to eat, right? of course, i know there are psychological explanations for this terrible behavior, from eating releasing feel-good hormones, to the idea of dulling whatever the pain happens to be with the instant gratification of deep fried goodness, etc. but the psychology doesn't end there, rather continues along its vicious cycle, as i sneak the 3rd, 4th and 5th donuts. core-deep disappointment settles over me and my still-sticky fingers as i imagine the box of ice cream in the freezer at home, as well as the horror and shame that comes with thinking that someone might stop me especially because we both know they really need to stop me.
when i feel powerless, i cope by eating out of control, knowing the whole time that it simply makes it all that much worse.
i should be stronger than donuts.