Binge, Interrupted

Thanks to the miracle of modern technology and a staggering amount of slick ‘n trendy self-help books, we here at the Science and Research arm of this very blog have isolated the binge-eating mechanism in an average, middle-aged, American female. We have managed to capture that nanosecond of time that is available in which a person is actually capable of backing away from the chocolate, and, by studying it in slow-motion, have been able to learn more about the defenses that are successful in those rare individuals (we currently believe there are 67 of them at large in the United States today) who have managed to change their overeating habits.

We were lucky to catch this particular subject to study. Subject is approximately 48%accomplished towards goal. This means that the subject’s rudimentary stopstuffingyourface device is somewhat effective, but not yet automatized. From an observation standpoint, this is ideal. Each step is painfully, yet clearly, articulated. Remember, there is only a tiny threshold of opportunity, time-wise, in which this device can be implemented, and while we are watching it unfold in a delayed frame-by-frame advance, in reality it happens so fast it is nearly undetectable to the naked eye.

ME: (ransacking kitchen) What do I want? What do I want? What do I want?

OTHER ME INSIDE MY HEAD: Yeah, What do you want? What do you want?

ME: (triumphantly) This! This! I want this!

OTHER ME: That? That’s really what you want?

ME: (clutching box protectively to chest) Yes. Yes it is.

OTHER ME: Is that all you want? Gee, you’re pretty easily satisfied, aren’t you? You must be a real cheap date in life.

ME: Well…no…no…of course not. I want…you know…other stuff, too. You know. Stuff.

OTHER ME: What other stuff?

ME: Just stuff

OTHER ME: So tell me what other stuff.

ME: No, no, never mind…this box of cereal is enough for right now. Just for right now, I mean, I still want other stuff, too, yeah, yeah, sure, sure…but in the meantime, this will do. I’m good.

OTHER ME: So what other stuff do you want?

ME: Milk?

OTHER ME: You know what I mean. Why won’t you tell me what you want?

ME: Because you might laugh. Because it sounds too outrageous. Because if I admit it, then I might have to do something about it. Because if I don’t think about it, then I won’t want it. Because I want to ignore it and just eat my handfuls of cereal until I am stuffed. Cereal IS a low-fat food, by the way.

OTHER ME: Would you just tell me what you want? I won’t laugh. Ok, I take that back, I probably will laugh, but it’s just yourself you’re talking to, anyway, and since when have you started taking yourself so seriously that you can’t be laughed at?

ME: Ok, Ok, Ok… I want…lots of stuff. I want my kids to always be as happy and healthy and whole as they are right this minute. I want them to be kind and good and generous and strong, too. I want to run one more mile, one minute faster. And then one more mile and one more minute. I want to fall wildly, madly, passionately in love with a man who thinks I’m just the bee’s knees. I want God to speak v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y and clearly to me. I want to write a bestseller. Or a so-so-seller. Or, heck, an anyseller. I want my laundry done. I want those spots to come out of my carpet. I want to wear That Dress. Yes, THAT dress, and I want people to be speechless when they see me in it. I want more marathon medals and I want to do something tomorrow besides show up at work one more time one more time one more time. I want cash in my pocket on the 29th and 30th of the month, not just on the 1st. I want some of those expensive, mail-order daffodil bulbs, and some time to plant them. I want to know if I even have abs. I want an end to world hunger. And one of those iPod Touches wouldn’t hurt my feelings, either. There. That’s what I want. I said it. Happy now?

OTHER ME: So Count Chocula is going to help you get those things?

ME: Uh, no. Sheesh. I told you you wouldn’t get it.

OTHER ME: Oh! Wait! I do get it! A half a box of Count Chocula is going to help you FORGET you want those things.

ME: That’s the plan, yes.

OTHER ME: Does it work?

ME: Yes.

OTHER ME: For how long?

ME: Shut up.

OTHER ME: You know, none of those things you want are all that outrageous.

ME: Shut up.

OTHER ME: There are actually a lot of things you could do in order to get those things.

ME: Shut up.

OTHER ME: What do you want, Roxie?

ME: (pause)

ME: (pause)

ME: (pause)

ME: Not this.

ME ROLLS CELLOPHANE BAG CLOSED, FOLDS IN BOXTOP FLAPS, SIGHS, PUTS BOX BACK IN PANTRY, CLOSES PANTRY DOOR

OTHER ME: There. Doesn’t that feel better?

ME: No. Not really.

OTHER ME: It will. Do it enough times in a row, and it will feel amazing. Trust me. Have I ever steered you wrong?

ME: WHAT??? HAVE YOU EVER STEERED ME WRONG??? HAVE YOU EVER STEERED ME WRONG? OH, YOU JUST PULL UP A CHAIR WHILE I GO GET MY LIST! Have I ever steered you wrong? Jeeminy Christmas. For starters, let’s talk about that one guy…

OTHER ME: Shut up.

ME: (smiles smugly)

OTHER ME: OK, ok, skip that. But this time, I am right. I am. This time you’ve got to trust me. You just have to.

ME: (pause) Can I have a Diet Pepsi, then? Caffeine-free? Can I at least have that? Huh? Can I?

OTHER ME: (sighs) I guess so.

ME: And a stick of Trident? One teeny stick?

OTHER ME: Now you’re pushing it. Go do some laundry.

ME SWIFTLY MAKES A MOTION THAT COULD BE AN OBSCENE HAND GESTURE TOWARDS OTHER ME, THEN LEAVES KITCHEN, EMPTY-HANDED, FOR LAUNDRY ROOM.