The Most Mixed Up Non Delinquent on the Block

Once upon a time there was a girl who hit 47 days without bingeing.

She managed during the weeks she wasn't allowed to exercise.

And – if that weren't stressful enough for her -- the near sleepless nights and endless, well, stress of too many deadlines stacked up (something that will continue through the beginning of September.)

Then there was the three-hour car ride that ended up taking seven (!) and the weekend in the Catskills, where she happily – and without bingeing – consumed full fat yogurt, eggs from the hen up the road (that twice had double yolks), goat cheese, butter, and vegetables prepared with plenty of olive oil and pesto. Saturday night at dinner she actually ordered the thing on the menu she most wanted to eat, as opposed to the thing she thought she "should" eat. (And per the nutritionist's scale Monday, she even lost weight – about four pounds, unbelievably.)

She had her scary lunch meeting at a publication she loves Tuesday, and – in the words of her editor – "This went well." (But still she second guesses it.)

All the while, she was on guard. Binges sometimes happen right after what seems like the biggest hurdles are jumped. The sigh-of-relief binge, if you will.

That night, the girl went to a long-planned dinner that night at ABC Kitchen with friends. They split a lot of fried things, including desserts and bottles of wine (her first in 47 days).

 Then she walked out of the restaurant and binged. It wasn't an urgent binge, where she was jut waiting for the dinner to finish so she could go and do it. It was more of a hmmm, this is what we usually do when we eat this kind of food – we binge after.

She ate a package of Hostess-like cupcakes. A black and white cookie. A piece of pound-type cake. A soft pretzel. Another cupcake (crummy). And then she went to Magnolia, where she ate ¾ of a piece of cake and threw the rest out in disgust.

She woke up Wednesday morning after not much sleep, feeling worse than she had in, well, 47 days. She spent nearly 48 hours trying to figure out if there were any way on the planet not to call this a binge.

She thought about just glossing over it, maybe stopping the day count like perhaps she'd forgotten it. She thought about a lot of things, none of which involved the truth, which is that she binged.

I binged.

And here I am, starting over again.

Day 2.