They're Calling Me . . .

It's a little after 6 pm and I have just wrapped up work at the office. I could probably stay for an hour more working, but I realize I cannot. Because the Fast Food Monsters are calling me . . .

It reminds me of this commercial I've seen where this woman is working late and she gets a call on her office phone. It's the doughnut calling her from the lobby, asking her to come eat it. I hear that call right now.

It's not even that I'm super hungry (I had a snack of fruit that was surprisingly filling). It's that it's already dark, I've got an 1.5 hour drive ahead of me, and I already know I have only leftover chili in the fridge (despite spending $80 at the grocery store a little over a week ago). These are times that fast food is like, "C'mon, J . . ."

Before my coworker left I told him I was strongly tempted to pick something up on the way home. Even as a type this, I am thinking of ways I could possibly justify a #6 (the spicy chicken sandwich meal) at Wendy's in Cordelia. It's late. I have no food at home. I worked out the last few days. One meal won't hurt.

I am lying to myself. I have some salad fixings in the crisper (they look unappetizing). I already had my cheat meal this week (a chicken salad tostada yesterday after step practice - although I skipped the shell). And yes, one meal, will hurt. I am not skinny. I do not have fast metabolism. So yes, one meal is going to make a difference for someone like me.

Meanwhile, the beaches of Jamaica call to me. As do my tight-fitting pants. As do the pictures of myself I was recently looking at. I also have to acknowledge that for some reason getting fast food is like a reward to myself. For working late. For enduring a commute. For being a Black woman in America. I don't know, but I am pretty good at finding ways to reward myself for even the smallest things. And that is legitimate. I have had some tough times, really tough times, that I didn't even realize I had the strength to endure. Yet, rewarding myself with fast food is no reward. I'll regret it later. When I feel like a whale in Jamaica. When my pants are cutting off my circulation. When I take some more horrible pictures.

Obama got inaugurated today. Everyone is saying it's a new day. "CHANGE," the streets chant.

Perhaps I should too.

Oh well, guess it's leftover chili (hey, it's just beans, tomatoes and lean ground beef and some seasonings) and wilted salad for me tonight.