Over the weekend, I did the grocery shopping. As usual, guilt and remorse were waiting in the checkout aisle.
Guilt in the form of rows of chocolate bars, which I invariably buy and consume, contrary to all my claims to want to lose weight. Remorse in the form of intense minty chewing gums. You know the ones–the ones that are supposed to kill bad breath and make one immensely kissable?
I know it is stupid to allow a damned chiclet and a chocolate bar to make me feel bad. But then I remember my Constructive Living credos: Feelings are uncontrollable directly by the will. You can’t control what you feel. Feelings have a purpose–to convey a message. So what message am I missing in my weekly shame-and-angst-fest in the checkout line?
The chocolate bar guilt is pretty clear. I need to decide whether I really want to lose weight, or I really want to continue eating and doing whatever I please. And accept that either choice is acceptable.
The chiclets…that’s a whole other convoluted mess that is at least three years old. And something that I’m not sure belongs in this blog. Let’s just say that in Freudian terms, sometimes a chiclet is not just a chiclet. I have purged my home and my psyche of most of the ghosts and demons that filled it at one time. But for some odd reason, the spectre of the chiclet remains. Perhaps because it is still unresolved.
I bought both the chocolate bar and the chiclets. Because really, deep down, I’d like them to shrink down to the size of merely a chocolate bar and a pack of gum, instead of looming in symbolic significance like they do. Perhaps I can eat (or chew) them down to size…