Trashed and Scattered

I’m 28, right? You think that by now, I’d have learned how to eat. Having a box of mac n’ cheese as an afterschool snack every day in high school…well, it’s high school. I figured it’d stop when I got to college. You know, the not-limiting myself part. However, I can still eat a whole medium pizza in one sitting and follow it up with some ice cream. I used to be able to eat a large, but I’d rather not attempt it now. Because I’d totally be able to do it. Egads!

The worst part is that I was raised in a house where we cooked. A lot. So over the past few years, while I beat back some of the nasty weight I’d put on in the first part of my twenties (mmm, cans of Cheez Balls, I miss you)…I realized that I couldn’t binge if it wasn’t in the house. For the rest of you, that means not keeping chips or tubs of ice cream around. For me, it means not keeping anything delicious in the apartment.

Take last night. I had a relatively unhealthy dinner of pasta, pesto, tomato, and lots of cheese. I was going to stop at that, with some red wine as my sweet. Later, it occured to me I had deliciousness in the house. So, I convinced Nickolas to make cheddar biscuits and butterscotch custard – nice combo, right? And we ate them both. Completely.

My stomach hurts. I still don’t know how the rest of you are all, “oh, I’ll have half a donut.” I’ll take my donut, your half, and keep sneaking back for more.