Judgement Day

My friend Glare says that I have an evil superpower. She seems to think that I can take anything, even the most innocuous statement, and turn it into a negative comment. Right now, I am focusing this laserbeam on issues of my size.

This afternoon, as I was snarfing down a Hershey bar, I hit a new low, even for me. I don’t even think that you need my evil superpower to appreciate this.

I have been so good lately. I have been eating less and walking the dog. I have brought in my lunch for almost three weeks, comprised of healthy food, and eaten smaller portions. The vending machine is a stranger to me. Over the last few months or so, I have lost about 20 pounds, which is good, but akin to bailing out the Batiquitos Lagoon with a tablespoon (I am getting better; before, I probably would have said Atlantic Ocean/teaspoon).

Therefore, I am not ashamed to say that I wanted chocolate this afternoon. I hit the vending machine and sat down to enjoy my plain old Hershey “chocolate” bar. It isn’t really chocolate, but every other option in the vend-o-matic had nuts of some sort.

After I merrily snapped it into segments, I lined them up like soldiers and proceeded to decimate the regiment.

There was some sort of reference to eBay on the wrapper, and loving eBay as I do, I took a moment to read the fine print.

Imagine my chagrin when I read the eight words that struck me like a knife in the chest, “Candy is a treat. Please consume in moderation.”

Judgement! From a candy bar! When I was least expecting it! I was lured in with the promise of vintage ceramic collectibles and leveled with commentary on the size of my ass.

I found myself trying to justify my consumption of the bar to the wrapper. How twisted is that?