temptation

you triangular italian god, there you sit, mocking me, tempting me, daring me to taste. i will be strong, i tell myself. i will not let this happen again. i will not even look upon you. i will breathe through my mouth so that i don’t have to smell your intoxicating cologne.

it doesn’t matter whether you are a famous gourmet chef, a tattooed and pierced sales associate from urban outfitters, the boy next door (paci’s), or the homeless guy selling newspapers on the corner. somehow you find a way to get to me.  

but this time i will resist. i will…what? you noticed i have lost weight? you like my new haircut? oh, this old shirt? i just picked this up at target (blushing). well, ok, maybe just a bite. but that’s it. you know how hard i’ve been working to cut you out of my life, to start over without you. one little bite can’t hurt, though, right?

suddenly i can feel the cholesterol coating my arteries, the fat cells rushing to see which can reach my thighs first, the pepperoni planning a heartburn party high inside my esophageal tract. this wasn’t such a good idea. i should have said no. why do i always say yes? are there meetings for this?

the morning after, as i try to button pants across my swollen gut, pants that fit only a day before, there you sit, mocking me from your grave (for yes, you are still there, somehow having a knack for halting all gastric processes the minute you enter a room). i will resist you next time. i don’t need you anymore. i have moved on. i will remember this feeling before the next time comes along.

wait. do you smell that? is that what i think it is? cheese? dough?

gotta run.