Got Beat Up By A Chocolate Frosty

Pseudo Spring day, I went for a walk. After awhile I passed by a Wendy's, and this day feeling fairly Spring-ish, I wanted an ice cream cone, a Frosty would do. 

So I went in, dropped some pennies on the sugar sticky floor by mistake as I filled in for the tax on top of the dollar, found a window seat and ate some spoonfuls of this treat. 

After some twenty spoonfuls I got a rush of brain-freeze, and a sort of tightening in my throat that was sort of painful. I paused in my indulgence. Then I laughed. Haha, I got hurt by a chocolate Frosty. Harsh swallow. This Frosty hurt me a little bit. 

After I finished, disposed of the cup, and left I started thinking, well yeah, this Frosty could actually hurt me some day in the form of diabetes if my endocrine system should so choose to spike me with this. 

Americans are getting bullied by Frosties everyday, or more-so, taunted by our sweet teeth and left astray and poisoned by one of our own organs. 

And it begins with what I put into my belly, which becomes a soluble in my blood, I know that, so I teeter between conscientious eating and snacking on tasty junk. It's a battle with craving. It begins in the mind, so before I go and give myself a blood disease, or technically an insulin miscommunication disease, I must reckon, I got a bit of mental one. 

Therapists everywhere should keep in mind, sometimes a Frosty isn't just a Frosty.

Junk

My twelve year old self commanded my 27 year old body this evening. The girlfriend has grad school class on Wednesday's, meaning I was without her dazzling recipes and on my own for dinner. I had pizza, popcorn, and Moosetrack's ice cream. The type of shit we'd say we'd eat for dinner when we were kids, dreaming of living on our own.

Then I proceeded to do my laundry, tossing whites in with colors and overloading the machine.

I'm an adult.