Just In Case

Binge

I worked out every morning this week. I've had no processed sugars. I look good as fuck. My cheeks and neck look slim and sharp again. It's OK if I go eat a burrito from Taco Bell right now.

Fuck I want ice cream now. I can't stop thinking about it. But you're going to look fat. Fat face Bernadette. Don't you want people to admire you? Respect you? Look at you in awe and disbelief at your beauty? Ugh. Why am I only pretty when I'm skinny as fuck. I'm glad there's so many palm trees around here to remind me of how I want to be. Skinny. Okay just go in and get the ice cream. A pint of vegan Ben and Jerry's. I won't eat it all.

I get out of my beat up, white 2004 Honda Ridgeline. She wasn't beat up when my dad gave her to me, but somehow I managed to ruff up her edges. I don't know how considering I'm an extremely cautious driver. I think it's because when I first got her I didn't have a feel for her nose and width... yeah I slowly found out with trial and error. I shut the driver's door and put the key in, quickly turning right twice to automatically lock it. The red light assuring me she's locked turns on. I check the door anyway... you know, just in case. I start walking towards the CVS. The moonlight from the full moon makes light in the dark night. The crisp California air softly tugs at my hair. I've started the healthy habit of parking in the back of lots to promote more walking in my life. Considering I just stuffed my face with a fresco style 7 layer burrito with potatoes and am about to buy a pint of Ben and Jerry's double fudge brownie ice cream pint, I definitely need the extra exercise. I wish I could see how I looked in someone else's perspective. Mark my words, when I get the money, I'm going to hire someone to follow me around and film me all day from every angle possible. I am obsessed with my image. Unfortunately. I guess we can blame my parents for that... but if we're playing the blame game, might as well blame Trump. Yeah I don't know why I care so much about how I look. I shudder back to real time, breaking away from my thoughts when I see the reflection of myself in the ice cream fridge glare. I smile. Cutie. This ice cream won't hurt. But what about my health? Am I dying from cancer? What if this feeds it? I'm going to regret this after. Fuck it. I need to push myself and get so sick of myself that I will change. I hope one day I never eat sugar again. I open the fridge and a gust of frigid air crashes into my body. I reach for the pint I've been craving and skip to the cash register. I start to hum a tune... ice cream is so yummy. Sometimes I am fat. Sometimes I am funny. Hopefully someone loves me cause of that.

"Ben and Jerry's kind of night? Yum." Ugh. Small talk

"Oh yeeeaahh," I respond in a low pitch tone trying to impersonate the kool aid man. The cashier actually seems like a good guy. He's cute too. I never like talking too much with the opposite sex though, they always think I'm hitting on them, thus they try to get my number. To which I politely tell them, "no thank you."

He laughs and replies,"$6.88 please. Apple pay? Okay just hold your phone right there," he moves my phone an inch higher than where I was trying to place it. DING. ACCEPTED.

"Thanks so much. I won't need the receipt, have a wonderful night," I smile and squint my eyes cocking my head slightly. It's a sort of mocking smile I do that personally, I find hilarious. I have no idea what it looks like to other people though, nor do I wait around for their reaction. I speed walk to my car frantically looking around gathering my surroundings. If you saw me walking on the street you would find me highly suspicious, but I simply like to be aware of my surroundings... you know, just in case. I fumble for my keys, the ice cream pint's coldness spreads like a sickness across the palm of my other hand. Unlock, unlock. Boom! Start this baby up and vroom vroom mother fucker! Alright what podcast should I listen to? I sit down and settle into the driver's seat. I crank the heater up. I take out my stash of plastic spoons in the glove compartment, grab one and anxiously unwrap my Ben and Jerry's ice cream. I don't want to drive home right now. So I decide to sit in my car alone on this Friday night in the CVS parking lot, listen to a podcast about the history of world war II, and eat my ice cream. Suddenly, life seems so utterly... strange. I seem to enjoy listening to history podcasts the most... should I maybe change my major to history? No... I want to stick to health and nutrition. OK THEN WHY THE FUCK AM I PIGGING OUT RIGHT NOW?! Do I have an eating disorder? Why can't I control myself? Am I skinny? Fat? Skinny fat? Average? Shit. I missed the past... 6 minutes of what this podcast is talking about. I shake my head and rewind the podcast. For the next 30 minutes I pick at my ice cream getting all the brownie chunks while learning about Hitler and how he rose to power in Germany. How the fuck did I get here? I eat about ⅔ of the pint then set it down in the cup holder. No calls from mom or dad... that's good. What would I even tell them? I got out of class late? I met up with a friend? Haha. What friends? I guess I could tell them i went out to eat. They'd ask where... I'll say none of your business. Then they'll ask why it's a secret... well. Because I feel guilty about it. Ugh I should've just gone straight home and not have to deal with any of this. I look into the rear view mirror. Ugh. My cheeks already look fat again. I should've just listened to myself earlier. Why aren't you stronger Bernadette? Was it worth it? God. You're fucking fat. I put the car in drive and head home. I NEVER speed... you know, just in case.