Manly Hall once wrote, “It is only a step from boredom to disillusionment, which leads naturally to self-pity, which in turn ends in chaos.” If only I had read this passage prior to last Friday night, I could have avoided the sheer disaster and gloom that was soon to follow.
Eric and both worked late, which equates to a quiet night at home consisting primarily of dinner, Internet, television and dog snuggles. Within a few short hours, we were getting antsy and bored, and thinking out loud to myself, I mentioned that “a Krispy Kreme donut sure would be nice.” Total disillusionment brought on by boredom. You already see where this train wreck is heading, don’t you? So, we pack into the truck, Eric, Pasha and myself, and we set out to get a (one, un, singular, uno) donut each. And then, BAM!, we are leaving the drive-thru with a full dozen – glazed, cream filled, seasonal flavors, old fashioned – you name it, we had it. That night, regretfully, I had a donut. Okay, so I had two. As soon as I had licked the last sugary morsel of lemon custard cake off of my right thumb, the self-pity set in, big time.
The next morning, I walked in the kitchen and the smell of donuts and coffee enticed me and soon I was dining on a donut and mug of steaming coffee, which I rationalized as “okay,” since I was going out for a run shortly after. About ¼ of a mile into the run, my side is hurting and my stomach is making sounds so loud that even Pasha knows something is wrong. The pain was worse than the fat crap, which is pretty excruciating in itself. About 5 minutes later, right after passing a group of hot, shirtless runners, my body couldn't take it anymore and I vomited. Not once, but twice. And it was not pretty. Pasha didn’t know what to do, so she just sat pitifully in the middle of the trail. Who could blame her? She was probably embarrassed, hoping none of her dog friends would come by seeing me hunched over and all shades of green. My body rejected the Krispy Kreme donuts with a vengeance. This is where the chaos came in, if you didn’t already notice. I continued on, pasty-faced and queasy, but determined to finish my run. I didn't sell my soul to the devil for the donut as Homer Simpson did, but it sure as hell fell like it.
It has been almost a week since I have had sweets of any kind. I have made a promise to myself to remain out of the processed food inferno for as long as possible, eating only the foods my body loves and was designed to consume – fruits, vegetables, legumes, and protein. I know that it is unrealistic to never eat sweets again, but for now, I know that every fiber of my being is still reeling from that donut disaster and it will be a very long time until I am fully recouped and ready for another chocolate glazed monstrosity.
