June 3, 2008
I am growing to regret my decision to give up fast food more each day. I rode my bicycle by a Wendy’s yesterday afternoon and the aroma was overpowering, beckoning me as if it were the nectar of the gods; begging for just a moment of my time with promises of intestinal distress and a soft stool. Giving up fast food has reminded me of the shear insanity that once plagued me early in recovery. My triggers are no longer syringes or beer commercials, but something much more Machiavellian. They have become golden arches and smiling Hambuggerlugs waiting around every corner, to hijack that neuropath way and rocket me into a state of euphoric sedation. Step one we admitted we were powerless over fast food and that our lives had become unmanageable? Really? My life is unmanageable because of freaking fast food? If I weighed 800 Lbs and was unable to leave my bed, maybe then my life would be unmanageable, but not right now. This of course, sounds just like the time I tried and failed to convince myself that I wasn’t an alcoholic because I wasn’t a hobo.
Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest.
-- Mark Twain
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1 comment:
People should read this.
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