Pine Summit Market is about five miles from where I live with my parents. It's on the edge of the ranch, and it properly stocked with needed-in-a-pinched items, and three rows of booze. A few weeks ago, I made the unfortunate discovery that every day, fresh donuts are delivered. The donuts are okay, not the best I've ever had, but for an addict, they'll do.
And that's just it--the sugar is sickening. The icing is over-the-top. There's too much of it. Makes a mess all over my hands. Every time I take a bite, sitting alone in the Tahoe with just me and the dog (who is rather bored by the experience, and just sleeps in the backseat), I think about the scale rounding out at 230 pounds. How easy it is to wake up one day, obese again. Just from a couple of donuts. It's beginning of losing control. Of the body winning. Everyone knows that losing weight isn't the difficult part, but keeping the weight off. So, my solution? Always be trying to lose weight. Five pounds. Ten pounds. Fifteen pounds.
It's not binge eating because it's only a couple of donuts, but it's not exactly healthy either--to do some sin off by oneself. Ashamed. Guilty. I didn't even like the donuts that much. I don't even get a decent high from it. But I might as well be filling my water bottle with cheap vodka and cruise all the local parks. Sit on the bench and waste a day.
I tell myself, it's not really bad. I go from there to cleaning three stalls and feeding and unblanketing horses. I haven't eaten. I didn't eat dinner from the night before. I'll be hungry. I'll starve to pay for it. It will all work out.
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