yesterday the Charles Chips lady came. my boss of course asked me what i wanted & i politely declined. he insisted again & i declined again, less politely. he came back with several bags of goodies, including a large bag of gourmet popcorn. & i was hungry. i had brought good, though unexciting food to eat, plenty to sustain me for the day. & let me say right here that i love caramel popcorn with almonds, cashews, & pecans. love it. but there are 10000 calories & untold grams of fat in that bag there. as of the end of the day, an uneasy truce prevailed between me & the bag, which was still on my desk. i know that if it goes anywhere, it will only be as far as the goody drawer (which is another reason most of my pants don’t fit — there’s a damn goody drawer). it will mock me whether i can see it or not, with its unopened, crunchy goodness. actually, i’d rather have it out in the open where i can keep an eye on it.
i see this bag of crisp, caramelized, delectibly nutty popcorn as the symbol of the struggles between me & food that have made me so miserable anytime i happen upon my favourite pair of jeans, which if i were foolish enough to try to put on, they would not come up past my thighs. i’ve had it with that. the popcorn will not win. nor will the honey roasted cashews that lurk in the drawer. the crackers, i may have a few of those with my sensible pasta. but just a few.