I deny myself everything I want. Where are the treats I was promised? When I was a child, I promised myself that one day, I would have an enormous house filled with all manner and varieties of treats, and an X-Wing on the lawn that could actually fly. Where are my treats? Where is my pie, made out of fluffy chocolate filling dense and darkly-sweet, with thick whipped marshmallow icing teased into stiff peaks and doused with coconut shreds? There is no pie. I get no pie. My pie is denied me.
Every damn time I food shop, I see pies and cakes and baked goods and I forego them, like some damned desert ascetic. What an ingrate! What a treacherous wretch - I have betrayed my young, idealistic self, to whom and by whom all these promises had been made about the treats I would one day be lavished with. I have none! No treats! What have I got - what is the treatiest item or combination of items currently reposing in my larder? CANNED PEACHES! Not even in light syrup - in juice! Plain yogurt. POP TARTS! WOO HOO!
Do you see what I'm getting at here? When I go for groceries, I turn into some kind of self-sadist!
And the craziest part is - I don't even agonize over it! It's not like I'm lingering by the Entenmann's display, all tortured, until I make this big decision of self-sacrifice. Hell no - I just walk right past it! It's like my mind just sets into this carefree, no-nonsense mode and I breeze through the aisles getting sensible groceries and beer. I walk right past all the good stuff - not in a rigorous fit of discipline or anything, I'll spare a glance, I'll spare a thought, as if with an open mind! And it's always the same thought! The thought is: "Hey, shouldn't I pick some of that stuff up? I feel like I always end up wanting it later, and then not having any. Ahhh...never mind, look at this stuff, what do I need that crap for?"
I don't know what unkind spirit it is that possesses me whenever I've got my hands wrapped around that shopping-cart grip-bar. Don't I know I love baked goods? OF COURSE I want that crap!
Hell. It's a damn dereliction of duty is what it is. Whose responsibility is it to see that I am well-provided for vis-a-vis treats, if not mine?
Did you know plain yogurt's actually pretty damn good? If you dump some juicy canned peaches over it?