We all do it, we all let our guard down and submit to our cravings. Those impecable sugary slices of doom and pestilence that caress our tongues only to go beserk in our gut. The health kick often escapes us at some point over a fairly regimented week surely to be replaced by the diet and meal plan of an 18 year old student with a 50% off voucher for Dominos.
So then, we eat. We eat each morsel like it was manna from heaven and only when completing our gorge we mercilessly unleash the guilt upon ourselves with fire and fury and give subliminal orders to leave none of our minds hiding places unturned in the quest for revenge on our own weakness. The gorging must be atoned you see, there must be retribution. I mean the cholesteral and extra inchage on the waist is simply not enough. There must be psychological wreckage also. Indeed, that is always how it pans out and no amount of willpower is ever strong enough to withhold the onslaught of salty snack cravings or sweet diabetic coma inducing sugary treats we may fall to. We all succumb to our own downfall in some way or another. Perhaps the few minutes of heavenly taste and munching is indeed the last great con, the last great swindle that we play upon ourselves. A test we are always doomed to fail, even the most valiant need sustinance for fecks sake. Then the inevitable weapy tears from the colon as the pizza embarks on its last journey like all the well rounded warriors that patron a steep water slide in some code violating theme park. Wee, Wee, Wee, I can almost hear the faint sounds inside my digestive tract allowing itself one last hurrah. When really ever knowing that some not so delicious fibre intake (yum)would shake things up, would give us a workout from the inside out. Then the reflection, oh whoa is me, I have failed (again), but surely there is always tomorrow. And do you know what, there always is. There always is.