Monday, July 27, 2009

Getting rid of it = the guilty aftermath

I took it outside in its box, not showing everyone how much of it I had actually eaten. And boy oh boy did I feel guilty. And of course who should I see but my roommate walking up the stairs.

"Oh... you got your pizza?" She asked, but you could tell she was smirking about it on the inside.

"Yeah." I said. I didn't want to admit it.

"You going downstairs?" She asked.


"Have fun!"

I wouldn't have fun. I had been found out. I took it downstairs and sat at the table with it. It kept sitting there, tempting me. I didn't want to keep eating, but I felt I had to. So I ate another slice. I grabbed a beer and drank that to try to wash out the taste of the Papa John's slice. But it was still there.

I went to bed, hoping it would go away. But the entire night I had awful nightmares about exgirlfriends, and I couldn't sleep with it sitting in my stomach. I woke up at 6 and got a glass of water. I felt awful.

I tried to go back to sleep... but it just wouldn't leave.

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