I Screwed Up

Posted by Wesley On Sunday, August 8, 2010 1 comments

Well, sort of. On Friday, my boss and I went out to lunch at Red Robin® together. It was a beautiful day, I was feelin' skinny, and was in a great mood. For the time being, anyway. 

As we entered the restaurant, all I could smell was yummy sesame seed buns and french fries. You know... those two things that are 100% forbidden on my eating plan. The two things I miss the most. The two things that make me act like Roger Rabbit after a shot of whiskey.

Anyway, we sat down and I started looking over the menu chock full of deep-fried chicken fingers, nachos, onion rings, french-fries-with-everything entrees, and deep-fried chicken burgers. It was awful. But, I decided to be a good boy despite how skinny and wonderful I was feeling. I ended up ordering just a regular hamburger, protein style, on a plate, with no tomato and no cheese. I was like "yeah... go Wes. Even though the waitress thinks you're a freak for eating a hamburger without the bun, it doesn't matter. In fact, if she wanted a good tip, she would have said 'oh my god... i love my burgers like that!', but she didn't. So eff her!"

Anyway, my boss ordered her little BBQ Grilled Chicken wrap thingy and an iced tea. "Not bad..." I think to myself. "I can deal with watching her stuff her mouth hole with that. Suh-weet-ah". And then she went and did it. She ordered a basket of fries as an appetizer.

"Bitch." I think to myself. 

I turned my head to the waitress, in hopes that she would be responding with a "Oh, I'm sorry. We're out of french fries today. Would you like some lettuce to chew on?" But no. The only thing that comes out of her mouth is "absolutely!". 

"Bitch. No tip." I think to myself.

I stare down at my Diet Coke. I take a sip and slunch back in my chair. I know it's over. I was already thinking of being bad when we were on our way to the restaurant. And, even though I ordered properly and totally well, I knew that a basket of fries to start with was going to send me over the edge. Just the thought of watching my boss dip those huge, golden, crunchy french fries in ranch dressing and put them in her mouth (where her taste buds are!), was killing me. And, it was at that point, I realized I had royally screwed up. I forgot to tell the waitress to sub my fries for a side salad. And so, at that point, I realized it was totally over. French fries in my face before and during the meal!? It. Was. Over. 

The basket of fries arrives. I pick around for the small ones. "One or two won't hurt" I keep telling myself. And then, when all the small ones were gone, I started on the medium ones. And then when those were all gone, I started with all the big ones (which, in other circumstances, I usually go for anyway). Before I know it, the basket was empty. And my boss, who ordered the damn thing to being with, ended up getting four, FOUR, fries out of the whole basket. 

AND THEN, our food arrives. I have a burger wrapped in lettuce with fries on the side. "This looks effing retarded" I think to myself. "People are looking at me thinking 'Apparently, that dude thinks that subtracting the bun from the equation totally makes the fries okay. Loser.'" So, I pick up my hamburger and chow... the eff... down. I devour this thing faster than anything in the world, hoping it will fill me up enough to not want the fries.

Yeah... right. What was I thinking? I ate every single fry on my plate, and, had a bite of my boss' wrap.

It wasn't until about thirty minutes after lunch that I really felt the effects of my french fry feast. I felt awful. I was bloated. Actually... I was totally bloated, was contemplating unbuttoning my pants, and was sitting in my office chair in total regret. I hated myself for allowing myself to lose control like I did. I totally went overboard and, for whatever reason, couldn't just be satisfied with one or two bites off the french fry train.

I dealt with the bloating for all of Friday, all of Saturday, and finally, FINALLY, today the bloating is gone. I feel like I'm back at where I started on Friday morning, which sucks. I'm right back where I started over two days ago. Bleh! And, while I feel comfortable, again, being able to wear shirts and pants without having to suck it in too much, I am pissed that I had to go through over 48-hours of not feeling so utterly great. It wasn't worth it. And will never be worth it.

And now, I'm happy to report, my wonderful friends and readers, that I've learned my lesson. If I'm going to be a bad boy, I'm only going to do it for hot, muscled men with deep commanding voices. Not for french fries. Not for Snickers. Not for hash browns. And definitely not for cookie dough!

Going forward, French Fries = No Megusta.

And, also going forward, Paul Walker is perfect. And needs to be the father of my children. And needs to be naked in my bed. Right now. 

But that'll never happen, so instead... here's this:

Enjoy... and thanks for reading!

1 comment:

Denise + Nick said...

Paul walker is effing HAWT! I can't disagree with you there!

As for the hamburger/fries - although it was delicious, I can totally sympathize with your guilt. I do this to myself all the time with ice cream. I love ice cream but the guilt associated with stuffing an entire carton into my face just isn't worth it. I have a little notebook that I wrote down how gross I felt afterwards one time. Now, when I have a craving, I read what I wrote. Most of the time it deters me! Most of the time...