I have noticed that when I cheat on my diet, I cheat again shortly thereafter. I have two theories to explain this. The nice theory and the nasty theory.
I could be feeling like, “Well, I survived this misstep okay. Who’s to say I won’t be fine if I did it again? Surviving it only proves that I am fine with it. I am more powerful than a silly milkshake, right? Maybe it’s even a step in the right direction. Who really knows? It’s good for the soul. I’ll just go ahead and have some more of that icky thing and pretend it’s only the first infraction. Every time is the first time. I am untouchable, unflinchable, indestructable. There is no cumulative effect, because I am not an organic being. I am a robotic superbeing. I just need to change my oil, buy some spare parts, polish up my brass coating. I can simply upgrade.”

Or there’s the underbelly version. “I slipped. It was inevitable. Did I really think I could exercise enough self-control to resist that? I’m a hopeless case. I may as well do it again, right? Now that I’ve started, I’ve proven beyond a shadow of a doubt my weakness of character. I only feel that rush of good feelings when I am validating my self-hatred. So go ahead and succumb 100%, why don’t you? Live it up. Then die it up. Who’ll really notice?”

originally published on 1/18/08