He can crush them with a single blow of his large weight.
And he will find you when you least expect it.
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Last night, I once again became the Fat Man. I was tired and hungry. And I did not care. My binge-eating side said F-it, just go for it. And Inlistened.
I entered into my local grocery store, went right to the prepared food section selected vegetable lo-mein, seasame cold-noodles with chicken, apple and sweet noodle kugel, as well as a box of coconut-infused dates.
I then took all of these items home and engorged myself with reckless abandon while chugging down some diet root bear and watching television.
To the obese, depressed, socially-inept, and misanthropic Fat Man within me it was heaven.
As if in a disembodied out-of-body experience, I was simultaneously overjoyed and repulsed.
It was both an amazingly cathartic experience and a lesson in abject disgust.
Afterwards, I was sufficiently full. Engorged. Over-stuffed. Sick to my stomach. And, as usual, disgusted by what I had done.
The sad part is that I must have known what I was doing. I remember thinking about the mantra but still caving anyway.
Who knows how far back this will set me back. If nothing else, it will reset the clock with respect to how long it takes me to get over this extraneous fat and sugar. I now need to fight off the hardest part- the detox. I have to get my body back to not craving, which is so hard.
Even as I sit here writing this, thoughts of white pizza float through my mind. I have a salad for lunch which will hopefully keep me satisfied until dinner.
Ugh, set backs.
- The Fat Man
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