Catering the Pity Party
Thursday, September 29, 2011
I've finally realized why I haven't lost any weight yet. It's not because I don't get enough exercise; I'm fairly disciplined about that. It's because I come home from work and eat like food is going to be banned the next day.
I've been trying to feed the Pity Party that I have each night when I make it home from my far-less- than-satisfying job. Intellectually, I remember to be grateful for income, but my soul isn't really buying it. So I blow an entire day's worth of excellent effort by trying to fill the Pity Party's cavern of emotional hunger. I eat. And eat. And eat. And suffer the "guilt hangover" every morning.
So now, I get it. Catering the Pity Party will break me, emotionally and fiscally. Pity Parties are ravenous, burning black holes. There are not enough banana chocolate chip muffins in the universe to satisfy the Pity Party.
Starting tonight, I'll make a new plan. And the Pity Party will just have to find a new caterer.