The Devil Made Me Eat It
June 28, 2011 44 Comments
My raging appetite is like a randy man-whore constantly out on the prowl for his next piece of bootie.
Excess is never good, which is why I’ve tried to tame my lust for food with simple self-control. If I want cheesecake, I eat a slice instead of two. If I want ice cream, I have a scoop instead of three. If I’m craving pasta, I have one serving instead of several. My onsies food strategy worked and I looked svelte without the SPANX.
I felt confident that I could face my foe (food) and say no thank you, or just one please–that is until lunch at an all you can eat buffet re-ignited my gastronomic greed. My eyes gleamed at the sight of food galore and thoughts of portion control were replaced by murmurs of “eat as much as you want.” Suddenly my onesies rule doubled, tripled and quadrupled. I ate so much that my appetite finally surrendered and begged me to put my fork down.
Was my resolve so weak that it succumbed at the mere sight of mac n cheese on a platter? Was I such a glutton that I needed not one, but three heaping ladles of mashed potatoes on my plate next to the lasagna and the spaghetti flanked by fried chicken thighs? Was I playing fire with my dental work and my hips when I ate brownie(s) à la mode, cakes and pies, pudding and flan? I was in carb and calorie heaven, but I felt like hell. Temptation and indulgence took me to that bad place where my guilt resided and she shook her head in shame and disdain.
I reminded myself that I was an intelligent and logical biped, not some four-legged beast that acted on mere instinct. I absent-mindedly nibbled on a chicken nugget and ruminated my fall from self-control. After much thinking, I concluded that I was the victim of possession. It’s a known fact that people have dual natures constantly battling for dominance. It’s the devil and the angel inside me. And this time, the devil won.
Yes, that was it. For years this devil has possessed me to over eat by making me put things in my mouth I shouldn’t have. And thanks to my angel, self-control manifested before things got “too heavy.” And considering my recent food fest, my angel must be MIA. So it wasn’t me who had failed at the buffet, but that slovenly angel sent from above to stop the evil sent from below.
I blame my gluttony on my absent angel who I believe must be sojourning behind the pearly gates. Now, I’m left defenseless against the devil. If my angel doesn’t come back soon I’ll turn from a svelte minx back to a corpulent porker. So dear readers pray that my angel returns to purgatory (Earth) because the devil on my shoulder is getting stronger with each bite I take.
What temptations does the devil inside you make you do?
© 2011 Lafemmeroar