Life is like a box of chocolates: It's empty because I lack self-control

 I know that the latest trends regarding the psychological ties to effective weight loss equates emotional eating as inner-child abuse. You're basically tossing your poor little id down the cellar stairs of your trauma basement and only feeding her  rolled up tubes of bologna wrapped around processed cheese and a raw hot dog. She rests her weary head on an air-filled package of snack chips and self-soothes by suckling the nozzle of compressed whipping cream. 

Well, if that's the case...then this week, I've moved my baby id out of the basement and basically tossed her happily down the well. 

How is it that the presence of delicious snacks can transform (practically) ANY event into, if not a welcomed occasion, at least bearable situation?

Our elementary staff caught onto this phenomena LONG ago. We may be the ONLY teachers in the country to RACE to our month faculty meetings...hoping to be first in line for the creatively catered finger-food snack buffet designed by our beloved retired friend, Miss Deb. You would think one choice of cupcake would suffice but, no-oo, Miss Deb provided a tower of six colorful varieties. I caved into peer pressure and grabbed the chocolate/blackberry buttercream because they were disappearing FAST. It was dee-licious!  Later though, in the cloak of darkness, behind my locked classroom door, I bit into the lemon bar/buttercream that I had secretly smuggled out and my knees practically buckled when I realized it had a lemon FILLING! And the cupcakes were just a small percentage of Deb's dessert drive-thru...there were pinwheel wraps, veggies, fruit, dips, trail mix, and a luscious sherbet punch. Our administrator couldn't be happier because she can get through her message with little interruption because our mouths are constantly occupied with something other than talking.

A few days later, our friend Naomi decided to host an after-school game night and off we skipped again. Her kitchen island was adrift with desserts. "Rice krispie treats!" I squealed happily, knocking Allison out of the way in my eagerness. I then delivered a heartfelt review. "They're perfect," I declared, my expertise on this topic infallible. "The perfect ratio of marshmallow and butter. Without that careful balance, the rice krispie treat could be rendered too dry...crackling like a crouton. Too much...and it turns greasy...a loose, gooey mess in your hand." I worked my way through sweet chicken wraps, pizza bites, hot dip, a cheese tray, chips, candy-candy-candy..."Why didn't you stop me?" I moaned, trying to fit behind my steering wheel to drive Katriel home. "I value my life too much to get between you and your generously-loaded plate. You must be a master at Jenga," she remarked. I beamed at the sweet compliment. (I woke up, later, in a cold sweat at 2 am when I realized that I'd forgotten to visit Naomi's crock pot of mini-meatballs bubbling on the counter.)

The next day was a Conference Day. The Leadership Class was hosting a Teacher Appreciation Luncheon (I just read somewhere that if there is an appreciation day for your profession, then you are in an underpaid position...sigh) so naturally, we were thrilled. Conversely, we were also upset (of course we were) because that meant that the donuts and bagels so graciously provided to us by our administrators most Conference mornings would not be served so, yeah...like spoiled children...naturally, we were devastated. Fortunately, we came up with a solution during Game Night. I'm not sure where the inspiration came from..."If only," I said, gesturing in the air with my fistful of rice krispie treat, "we knew someone," I rested my chin on my closed fist that was wrapped around a handful of jellybeans, "who would be driving by a Dunkin' Donuts on the way to school." I sighed sadly before reaching for a pizza pillow. There followed a long discussion about everyone's dream donuts where we revealed a lot about ourselves...I've never felt closer to a group of women in my life. 

It takes a LOT to raise one's spirits when one is seated in a school auditorium at 7:30 in the morning to discuss a state sanctioned seminar addressing workplace violence. To avoid...not condone. "Glad I left my stunt retractable prop blade at home," I muttered once I saw where this discussion was leading. Know your audience. I jotted down a quick note to apologize to my colleague Kim for once lobbing a Nerf ball at her face during a phonics meeting. I sat, horrified, to discover that I could be classified as a Level 1 offender. Fortunately, at that moment, Marissa walked in with our donuts and my day dawned bright. It was enough to get me through to the luncheon. Well...actually, it was enough to get me through to Katriel's rhubarb bars that were waiting for us in my classroom and THOSE were enough to get us through to that AMAZING luncheon.

Hello, everyone. My name is Amy and I'm an emotional eater. When I get upset, ice cream. Thanks for pudding up with me. I donut know what I'd do without you.