the suck

This was a lousy, no-good, horrible, awful, miserable
day. One of those kinds of days that
start out bad, get slightly worse, and then hiccup, shudder, and take a
plummeting death spiral into the deepest pit into the soul-sucking heart of darkness.
Not just suck, but living suck. Not just living suck, but day of the dawn of
the night of the living suck, coming to eat your brains and tear out every last
shred of happiness that was left in your miserable, burnt-out carcass, and then
jump on it. And then, set it on fire. And then, put it out with an ax. I’m
kind of not happy, is my point.

Usually, when I’m not happy, I have something to blame it
on, and I’m more than happy to pull out the Big Book of Blames, look it up in
the index, flip to the correct page and find myself the appropriate cure to
apply to the The Suck. I have PMS! Please insert chocolate into my head. I have
forgotten to take my brain pill! Please insert brain pill into my head. And
then, chocolate. It is a sad and terrible world. Insert mental note to spend
one of three wishes on World Peace. Medicate with chocolate, in head.

The problem with this scenario isn’t so much that I can’t
eat chocolate any more, though you’d think that was totally the problem. It is
a very neat solution, and we will end this story right here. It is so sad, the

Except that’s not the problem. I can eat chocolate. I am
really supposed to avoid chocolate, however. I had this operation, with the
intestines and the gut and the digestive juices and the business, where they
rearranged me all up with the express purpose of bypassing some of that absorption
stuff you do when you eat–I think that might be why they call it a bypass! I
should write that down and check on it. Anyway, as it turns out, sugar, the
sonovabitch, is not absorbed anywhere near your belly, intestines, gut,
digestive juices, etc. You start absorbing it right in your mouth, as soon
as you stick it in your head. I begin to understand why it is so addictive.

So sugar, that is one easy-peasy, simple and dandy way to
totally fuck up the entire point and purpose of this operation. Start
mainlining sugar, and you won’t lose a goddamn thing. That is one reason good enough to avoid it. Generally. Sometimes, I have eaten things that have
not appeared on any of my nutritionist’s A-Okay, Thumbs Up! lists. Sometimes, I
have eaten things that would have made her frown very severely indeed at me,
and possibly thwack me with a ruler and make me cry. Sometimes, I had to because
they were there, and it’s a habit. How can you not reach out and snatch a dark
chocolate Hershey’s Kiss that’s been just sitting there, waiting for you to
come and love it, as if it has been waiting for you all its life, when that has
been the habit of your entire life. Food, face. Easy.

So, back in the early days, before I wised up, I snatched up
the Kiss, pilfered a cookie, remembered the bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips
rolled up and stashed in the back of my cupboard and climbed up on a chair to
dig through the detritus and drag them down ("Honey, what are you
doing?" "…nothing!") and take a handful and tip them back into
my mouth. And with the chocolate sitting on my tongue, I waited for eternal
bliss or at least happiness and good fortune and health, and it was nice, and
then I went on with my life, with a little bit of a buzz, some stomach pain,
and some not-so-sexy gas.

All of which are enough to stop me from doing it again, for
a long time. But I do not mourn it, or worry about it, because I am saving up
my chips. I am holding on to my aces. There’s some kind of pertinent expression
to go right here, one that suggests that I’m biding my time, that I can cash in
all my good points for a moment in the future when I am having the worst and
most horrible day ever, the kind after which I deserve a fucking cookie. No, not just a fucking cookie, a handful
of cookies. A basket of cookies. A box, a bag, an entire grocery aisle’s worth
of cookies at the end of the kind of day where you do not give a flying,
farting fuck whether you blow your tiny little stomach out, or get sick and
throw up all over the cat, because that will just be the hilarious icing on the
hilarious cake of evil and suck that has been your messed-up, no-good, wretched
and terrible day.

I ended up sobbing at my desk, and I thought, fuck it. I am not going to run today,
because I am so sad.
And I got up and put on my gym clothes and I ran. The
entire time, though, I was thinking, what
am I going to buy on my way home from work?
That kept me going for a couple
of miles.

I stormed to the bus and I stormed onto the bus and I
stormed off the bus and I stood at the entrance to the donut shop and I thought,
fuck you, donuts. And I came home,
and ate some fresh mozzarella and a little basil, and played fetch with the
cat, and cried for awhile on the futon. There are still chocolate chips in the
cupboard, but I don’t want them. I don’t want to gorge on cheeseburgers or
candy or cake or ham or butter. I just want to lie here for a little while
longer and be really, really unhappy. And that is supposed to be the
super-greatest thing in the world, hooray for me! I have broke the cycle of
emotional eating! I am practically totally fucking cured!

 Except I’m angry. I am really fucking angry that I can’t
just lie here and eat my way through a pint of ice cream and feel better. Where
is the justice in the world? I want to want a pint of ice cream. I want my
problems to be solved, so easily.

5 Replies to “the suck”

  1. Excuse me while I swallow the lump in my throat….*ahem*, that’s better. Thanks for this post, I know exactly what you mean. I don’t want to feel those feelings either. YUCK!

    Anyway, good for you, and thanks for the inspiration next time I’m facing the same dilemma.

  2. Sorry it sucked raw. Sometimes the no added sugar fudgecicles work for me. Other times it is one (1) Reeses peanut butter cup – usually a mini will do it. I’d rather do that than have the food rule me. But you did kick its ass. Keep running.


  3. I may have missed the point of this post, and if so, I’m sorry. But, here is an idea: I have tried drinking hot chocolate that is 1 T of cocoa powder with 1 splenda packet, hot water. Sometimes I add a little milk, but now I like it okay without it. It’s 16 calories, pure chocolate flavor.

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