Early this evening – and ironically, after sitting around thinking how nice it has been not to be recovering from a binge – I nearly did.
I’ve been hungry and tired today, and the soupy heat hasn’t helped. I sat in the air conditioning in the foyer of the gym (just because it was convenient, and I didn’t feel like dealing with Starbucks) idly checking messages, reading my newspaper, and then a book.
It was nearly time for dinner when I opened my bag and realized there was a banana in it.
A banana. I mean, who cares about a banana? To quote Oprah, nobody ever got fat eating a banana.
I had it unpeeled and was about to take a bite. I usually have fruit in the evening, I reasoned, so maybe I could just count this as that. But because of hunger I was having dinner earlier than usual, which meant I’d likely want my fruit snack later even more than usual.
I could feel the thoughts threatening to engulf me: The exhaustion of thinking about everything. The fear of being unceasingly hungry. The end of a long weekend where I have wasted a lot of time, and the onset of a week I’m not sure I have the energy to face, for no particular reason other than my weariness with everything at the moment.
Suddenly I knew it wouldn’t be just a banana I ate. And that if I ate it all night the thoughts would claw at me. Maybe I could have just this, or just that, or…
Or no. I was about to shove a banana in my mouth on my way to dinner. I mean, WTF?
I threw out the banana.
Two hours after dinner, I had two plums -- and no regrets.