It's 1:21 AM, and the scale sits on the ground 10 feet away. It tempts me to check my weight, so I can be disappointed at the high number that screams nasty words from bright blue lights.
I'm feeling peckish, the awkward in between when you're not hungry enough for a meal, but you want something more than a salty snack. I shouldn't even be eating at this time, but I'm up to spend time writing and editing instead of finishing Chemistry homework three months late.
I tap my feet to the beat of my music against cool hardwood, trying to multitask. I could eat something healthy like the tangerines sitting in a bowl in front of me, I think to myself, but then, I consider the orange guts that would get under my nails and how long it I wouldn't be able to type. I frown, toss that idea away, and go back to deliberating what to have that won't make the scale call me a fatty.
The clock moves faster, and before I know it, it's 1:34 and I still haven't decided, my stomach making weird squishy noises in protest. This limbo is annoyingly difficult to control, as unlikely as that seems.
My stomach wants food badly enough to prevent me from sleeping it off, but the scale knows I've eaten five hours prior, and if I eat any more, it would make enough noise to wake up the whole neighborhood.
I recently gained five pounds over spring break, so I've already been stressing about how to lose that weight. The worst part is, I stress eat, which only creates more problems and stress.
This thought strikes me, and I almost choose not to eat, for the sake of my thighs. Almost. Suddenly, a gold light shines through the refrigerator doors and I approach it. Inside sits a beautiful, creamy pudding with an espresso mousse in an adorable, tiny jar.
My mouth waters, and all self-control is about to leave my body. However, an equally intrusive blue light disrupts the beauty of the holy pudding. I frown, and the scale's shrill alarm begins ringing through the house.
I roll my eyes and forcefully yank out the batteries, yet the harsh sounds and lights are still there. I feel like clawing my eyes out and cutting off my ears. Why can't I just eat without being judged?
I don't even really care about what I consume and when, as long as I work it off somehow later on. I shake my head at the gray metal and turn my back to it, eager to grab that scrumptious dessert. To my surprise, everything falls silent.
It's as if it stopped because I realized I could have anything I desired and not have to worry about the consequences because nobody cared! Not even myself!
With a triumphant smile, I dig into the pudding, and the silky texture and deep hints of caramel in the espresso make it belong in a world-class pâtisserie. It's not much, but it's enough to satisfy my appetite.
I check the clock and it reads 1:52. Whew, only took me 30 minutes. I sit back down in front of my laptop and look around me. No flashing lights, no audible disturbances...I'm all good!