I am a junk food addict.
I don’t say that in some sort of joking manner, laughing about a love of chocolate or some such thing. I say that as somebody who can find myself obsessing over junk food all day, having my thoughts completely consumed in a battle between knowing I shouldn’t eat it and wanting it, finding excuses to get it, reasons “I deserve it”. I say that as someone who will literally spend a half hour to an hour doing nothing but waging an internal battle to not get in the car and drive off to get some. I say that as someone who usually ends up in that car and just might in rare circumstances win the internal battle while on the road, turn around and head home, only to find 30 minutes later I am at the gas station checkout M&M’s in hand. I say that as someone who even now while writing this blog is gorging on junk food with the thought in my head that this will be the last final blowout “meal” of it, trying to quietly ignore the dozen or so other last final blowout “meals” I’ve had in the past couple weeks. This is what I mean when I say I’m a junk food addict. I’m not kidding about it. I’m brutally serious.
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