Sunday, March 13, 2011

I chose...poorly

Crap. That feeling where my eyes are yelling at my face that they are so tired, but my stomach is yelling at my decision-maker for choosing Arby's and root beer for dinner instead of real food. Body parts rebelling against each other. Nobody wins.

I knew better than to eat so bad (it's just what Arbys does to me), but also not to eat so late, 7pm, I think. Late for food, and way too late for pop. Why is it that I make these choices even though I know I won't like the consequences? Now that's a question. It's not an addiction, but when the singular event is analyzed against a single choice by an addict, they aren't that dissimilar. I don't repeat it often, but I do repeat it. Maybe it's a guy thing, eating bad things regardless of the known consequences. My thought is that it's more of a human thing. What tastes better than the imagination and memory of some forbidden fruit. The lure of an idea. Some ideas flourish when they are made real, others give you upset tummies and angry bodies.

When will I finally learn?

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