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Put Down the Straw and Step Away from the Milkshake

There are simply places I shouldn’t be permitted to enter. I thought I could come up with a top ten list, but surprisingly the magic number is five:

Steak and Shake
Dairy Queen
Olive Garden (or any other place with endless garlic bread and pasta)
Skyline Chili
Most pizza places (unless, I’m on my AAA game)

There you have it.

I’m contemplating whether or not I should develop a Most Wanted sign to post next to the hostess stations at all these restaurants. Add a buy one, get one coupon, and it might illicit the need for a restraining order.

What I contemplate this morning is just how much did that free turtle sundae milkshake really cost me?

Even after the first gulp, which was really after I slurped down the whipped cream and cherry, I knew it was too sweet. I asked Lyle if he wanted some. No. No? OK, Melissa. Buckle down. You can do this.

On the way home, I wondered why I had never perfected the art of puking.

As a kid, I remember trying to make myself throw up after stuffing my emotions so far down I could plaster the perfect-one smile back on my face. Food was always my drug of choice in the sometimes tumultuous alcoholic home.

The purging part eluded me. I just couldn’t quite figure out how to get the job done. Thankfully, Google was light years away, and I was too embarrassed to ask for assistance from one of the much-too-skinny girls at my school who I knew managed it quite well.

After I lost weight and marched my happy ass into my mental mechanic, I found the missing ingredient in a book she recommended about eating disorders. I realize the lack of this information as a child likely saved my life, but I occasionally I toy with the notion before smacking myself in the head and moving on.

Last night was not as bad as it could have been. After an unexpected indulgence, I’ve been known to ring the bell for the real binge to begin. I could have also eaten the triple steakburger – we had a coupon for it as well. I limited myself to the shake and some of Lyle’s cheese fries, but in my defense, I didn’t eat many fries (too soggy). I also skipped the self flagellation when we returned home and simply got ready for today and then turned in early because I felt so crappy. Is it perverse to be glad the shake made me sick?

I’m disappointed in my actions because I’d finally de-toxed from my previous sugar indiscretion, and now I will spend the next three days jonesing for the white stuff again.

It pisses me off. I know better. With knowledge comes power, right? I’ve been at this gig for 10 years. It shouldn’t be so fucking difficult, but maybe, just maybe I’m the biggest obstacle.

I don’t think there’s some big dark secret I’m trying to stuff down today; however, I find myself in a new set of circumstances and the systems I had in place no longer work. Here’s to devising a new plan. Excuse me if I toast with a little sparkling water; I’ve had enough milkshakes for one day.


3 Responses

  1. For me… the bagel store:( Or any bakery.

  2. Totally with you there too…forgot those. 🙂

  3. “Is it perverse to be glad the shake made me sick?” – no, not at all. I am often thankful for that feeling, and I focus on it, not in a self-flagellation way, but in a mental aversion for the future way. Then, hopefully, when I’m tempted again i can bring up the “oh, last time I felt so awful…” and sometimes it really does work, to make me avoid whatever it was that made me feel bad.

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