Periodic Failure.

I've been trying to hold off the weight gain.
Usually the sensible strategy would be to limit the amount of mass one shoves down their pie hole. Problem is, I likes me some pie and my pie hole is wider and deeper than most. You can't miss it, and I rarely do.
On a normal day, where the ebb and flow of life doesn't breach the high and low thresholds, I can usually fight off the urges presented by highly-processed, plastic-wrapped goodness. By goodness, I mean it looks tempting in the wrapper, but consumption is immediately followed by intense feelings of regret and shame. I'm fully aware of the emotional rollercoaster I'm about to ride when I reach for the package, and most of the time I just don't buy the ticket.
Then there are those days that fall outside normal operating parameters. On those days, I buy a whole fist-full of tickets and take as many rides as I can before I'm nauseous.
I'm weak that way. To be honest, I'm weak in a whole bunch of ways, but this one takes the cake. Mmmm cake.
Here's hoping the New Year will bring fewer stress-induced binges.


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