...of charm and strange: the blog

Hilatron nicely sums up my outlook on food:

"I am fairly certain that two of my limbs could spontaneously detach while I was sitting in a burning building breaking up with Josh during an earthquake the day after my cat died, and the foremost priority in my mind would be what I might make for dinner, and how soon I could justifiably get that going."

If the donut fiesta that has been my life for the last four days isn't proof enough of a food fixation of alarming proportions, consider the fact that even as I enjoy any given meal, I am simultaneously fantasizing about what I plan to eat for the next one. Going to bed every night makes me sad because I'm done eating for the day, but then it makes me happy because I'll get to eat again when I wake up.

I'm going to pay for this attitude big time when I surpass that age beyond which you can no longer eat whatever you want without gaining weight.