Don't Eat Your Feelings, Sally

I knew the ice cream was an ill-fated emotional purchase when I was at the store.  I knew the marshmallows, chocolate bars and graham crackers were a bad idea and that I would never actually make the s'mores, not to mention how bad they looked in context with everything else in my basket.  I knew that there was no way I could explain the THREE bags of potato chips to the cashier and was praying that she'd think I was preparing for some sort of sleep-over for my non-existent kids in my non-existent family.  I wondered what the personal trainer in front of me was thinking about my junk food on the conveyor.  But, hey, I also bought some granola bars and almonds.

And then I got home and was ticked that I let my feelings do the shopping.  I don't think I've ever, in my entire life, bought three bags of chips in one trip to the store.  At least I can say I didn't eat it all but for half a pint, I was pretty sure that Ben & Jerry were right there with me.  Defeated, disappointed, disillusioned, disenchanted, disastrously off the diet wagon; they feel my pain.

I've had a really rough couple of weeks and I'm starting to wonder if it's all rough weeks with just a few bright spots here-and-there.  And the bright spots are really only there so we don't all become a sisterhood of fat, hairy, angry old maids.  I'm sure things will look up if I can land a job, miraculously lose 15 pounds, win the lottery or, or.... buy more ice cream.  Too bad eating salads doesn't trigger serotonin production.  I'd be a waif.