Guilty Confession of the Week

Guilty Confession of the Week:

My boyfriend and I ordered a Domino's pizza. It was a rainy day, pouring. Without a car and in Boston where public transportation is a pain in the fattest ass in America, there was no way we were going out to get groceries or fast food. We had very little food in the house. Stuff to make spaghetti with some frozen spinach or something, maybe, but that was about it. So, my boyfriend eagerly suggested pizza. 

Yes, I can --and should-- just say, "Go ahead, I'll just make myself something simple." Or, "No, I'll order a sandwich or a salad." But I didn't. I don't. Ever. I had a dream once where I woke up saying "I don't want any pizza!" and my boyfriend's comment was, "I've never known you to refuse pizza before. It must've been a dream."

(On a contextual, justifying note -- I never ate pizza as much as I do now before I met my boyfriend.)

But it's not the eating of the pizza that is my guilty confession. He ate his 4 slices, and I shoved down 3. I was full at two, but it just looked so good and was still so hot, I ate a third. I couldn't, literally, stomach a fourth. So, my boyfriend left the box on the stovetop for us to throw away in the morning.

In the morning, I thought about the pizza. I really did. I thought, well, when he's in the shower, I'll eat that piece. I didn't even want the damn pizza! I wanted to eat something healthy, even my body felt that way, but my brain was like -- "Now's your chance to get that fourth slice!"

So, when my boyfriend went into the shower, I made to throw it away and then took a big bite of it. ...then I felt disgusting. I felt utterly and ridiculously disgusting. And I thought, Why do you feel you have to do this? This isn't normal.

I spit it out.

There are some things that are getting out of hand. That is why the 1 pound a week is an important accomplishment, and though small, not insignificant. I need to meet this goal before I can move on to the next.

Any words of advice?