Demonic Cravings

written in 2005



Last night I became very VERY aware of the 5 pounds I’ve gained in the last 2 weeks. I could just feel the extra weight and it was making it uncomfortable to sleep. It felt like my belly and thighs had been stuffed with 100 water balloons and gravity was trying to pull them though my skin, through the mattress and onto the floor. THAT is was “retaining water” feels like. I hate to be one of those girls that talks about PMS and all the insanity that comes with it, but I gotta write this one down. I won’t go into the insane hormonal misfires of the brain. We’ve all seen it. Girls ACTUALLY develop a split-personality during this week. We just do. I’m just gonna tell a little anecdote that describes the cravings: 

Driving back to work after lunch today, my split personality just popped up next to me in the passengers seat of my car. As I took a right onto Hawthorne Street she said,

“No, no, better idea… take a left and go get a caramel machiato from Starbucks. Yes, right now. Get a grande. Oooohhh, and one of those big chocolate muffins. Yeahhhh. Extra whip cream.” 

“But I’ll be late getting back to work and I just fed you a tuna sandwich, cheese, olives and some wheat thins. And lets not forget the whole gut issue we had in bed last night. Forget it.” I said.

…and then there was silence and she stared at me with burning eyes and I could feel the hissy-fit bubbling up inside her. It’s kind of like telling Rainman that he can only have 4 fish sticks and not 8. It’s ugly.

So yeah, she starts banging her head violently against the dashboard as I skip Starbucks and pull into work. As I walk up the steps to my office she leaps onto my back and wraps her arms tightly around my neck. Then, in her best Linda Blair voice she coolly whispers that if I don’t put some form of grease, fat or decadent-processed-sugar-product into my body soon that she will posses my body and force me to eat that near-molded piece of cake that’s been sitting in the refrigerator at work for almost a month now.

“Jesus, FUCK, I hate you, Ok, I’ll see what I can do.” 

I know my co-workers talk about me when I’m not there. They must. 
• Hot chocolate, (because we have a machine at work that makes that) 
• Extra butter popcorn,
• 3 bite-size Milky Way candies 
• A Dr. Pepper & half a kolache that was left over from breakfast.

…All this AFTER my lunch break. The rest of the day at work I just sat there in disgust as that little beast sat in the corner of my office picking kernels out her teeth and fondling her full belly-gut. I couldn’t look at her because I knew that if I did she would just smile at me with chocolate stained teeth and say, 

“Your self-respect is in here, Dianne. Would you like to leave it message? I'll see that she gets it…”