I JUST COULDN'T
RESIST...
(an entry for the On Display Collab)
22 August 2002
I passed by the break room door and the box was just sitting there.
A drug rep had been by earlier in the day and had brought them: a box of fresh, still warm
donuts. My nemesis.
Drug rep days are always fun for the staff. They come to doctors'
offices to push their particular brand of drugs..."use our birth control pill instead
of their birth control pill." If they bring enough goodies for the staff, they
figure the staff will put in a good word for them with the doctors, so they are always
finding little gifts to schmooze with the hired help. The hired help loves this!
Donuts are definitely not on my diet. But the air was heavy with the
mingled aroma of yeast and sugar and my mouth began to water.
One. I'll just have one. This time I'll be able to control it....
But which kind? There was a nice assortment. My hand generally
gravitates toward the raised glazed kind. I gingerly touched one. It was soft and spongy.
Just the way I liked it. I gave in and picked it up.
I started with a nibble, But then I was taking a big bite, and then
quickly finishing off the donut. It wasn't as satisfying as I thought because this
particular glaze was sweeter than I like. I washed the sticky stuff off my fingers and
started back to my desk, but the box was just there with nobody around.
I reasoned that if I had a sugar donut (my other favorite), it would
cut the sweet after taste of the glazed donut. And heck, I'd already had one. So I took a
sugar donut and it disappeared as quickly as the glazed, granules of sugar now dotting the
black of my shirt. Sugar crunched on the linoleum under my feet.
I'd now eaten two donuts and I felt very guilty. I shouldn't have
done it. What a bad person I was. I deserved to be punished. Oh hell, let's have a
chocolate donut too.
The chocolate melted over my fingers as I wolfed down the donut,
barely tasting it. When it was gone, I realized that I hadn't liked it any way. And now my
mouth was full of the taste of the chocolate that I didn't want. Naturally I should
cleanse my palate with another sugar donut.
The enormity of how many donuts I'd eaten began to penetrate my
brain, and I rearranged the remaining donuts in the box so it wouldn't look like so many
were missing.
My fingers brushed against the plain old fashioned donut. This was
the cake kind, not a raised donut. The crispy edges of the fried cake made my mouth water.
Oh hell, I'd already had four donuts. My diet was shot for the day long ago. I might as
well have another one too.
I nibbled around the edges, enjoying the crunch of the fat-loaded
crust and then let the soft inside slowly dissolve in my mouth.
By now I felt like the biggest loser in the world. All of my good
work, all of my good eating habits had been shot with one box of donuts. I'd lost all
control and I'd eaten half a dozen of them.
As with alcohol--one donut was too many and a dozen wasn't enough. I
wanted more. It was only the fear of being found out that prevented me from eating another
three or four donuts.
The foregoing is, unfortunately, a true story. Fortunately, it
happened several years ago (and more than once). With luck, the next time I find myself in
that sort of position, I'll be able to resist.
Thank you for nominating my entry, Moving On for a DiaristNet award! |
