My wife and I bought a Costco carrot cake recently and were appalled by its covering of butter frosting over the superior cream cheese frosting. Over all, the cake was too sweet, not balanced by strong spice the way a good carrot cake should be.
I articulate all this in retrospect now, but at the time I was first trying out this Costco excuse for carrot cake, I found myself eating it over and over, trying to determine why I didn't like it.
I guess even mediocre carrot cake is hard to resist.
But to keep eating it to determine its flaws strikes me as moronic and I am still hurting , spiritually, from this pathological behavior.
I'm sad to report that it has come to this: Everything in my life revolves around maintaining a
body weight that will allow me to fit in my size 34 pants. My mentality is this: No matter how bad
things get, no matter how deeply I feel my flaws and failings as a father, a husband, a
writer, a college English instructor, a friend, and a human being, my being
able to fit in a 34 waist gives me a safety net separating me from the
bottomless pit.
As I write this, it is 17 days before Christmas and
there have been a lot of high-calorie food occasions (gluttony tantamount to Yuletide cheer) and while I’m too
afraid to weigh myself, I find a tightness in my jeans that wasn’t there six
weeks ago. I’m scared and yet this fear is not abating my holiday-fueled
appetites and observing this lack of efficacy from the anxiety that results
from wearing tight 34 pants is creating yet another layer of anxiety.
So for me the holidays are anxiety-laden. I have no
pants bigger than size 34 and a trip to the clothing store to buy bigger pants
is the next step to removing my safety net.
So what are the holidays to me? Nothing more than a conspiracy to make me fat and to send me over the Corpulence Cliff. How deep is this conspiracy? Let me tell you, people who can't see me in person are actually sending me desserts in the mail.
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