Pieces of Me

Sure, I've been MIA for several months now.  I reached my weight goal and completed the OptiFast program.  Yay me!  I've lost the equivalent of two carry-ons and one large garment bag.  I still have lots of emotional baggage, though.  Satan's food beckons to me daily, like some inner city hooker.  You know if you indulge, you're going to regret it (and maybe require a dose of penicillin) after the one brief shining moment of euphoria slinks away in disgust.  Such is the life of a woman who loves food - and most women love food more than sex.  Really - we do.  Nothing against the old bump and grind but food makes us feel - well - loved.  I know, that's fucked up.  But it does.  Warm, gooey cheese, voluptuous mounds of  mashed potatoes, erect Italian bread sticks.  Does the trick every time.