fatties, part the second
i'm sitting here eating a donut. my second donut of the day. i usually don't eat donuts. i do my damndest to keep from buying them; there was a time that i'd eat maybe two donuts a year. i can't help it, though, when donuts are literally stuffed under my nose. when someone brings donuts into the office--a dozen of the wonderful, sugary, simple carbohydrate monsters, dressed up in sprinkles and chocolate and christmas deocrations--and then walks by my desk with the box open offering me one i just cain't say no.
at the risk of this post sounding like hilary's blog, i just have to say how astounding it is the way that people try to fatten you up at christmastime. every day this week and last there has been a new homemade batch of cookies sitting either on the unoccupied desk adjacent to mine or next to the watercooler. the temptation, especially on days that i'm not in the clinic and am spending a lot of time at my desk, is absurd. every time i go to fill up my water bottle; every time i print something out and have to go past the cookiedesk, they're there, staring up at me. satan himself, dressed up in a reindeer headband, his little cloven feet bececked with little red-and-green pompom jingle bells, is jumping up and down next to the tupperwear container, handing me cookies. "it's christmas," he says. "you've been to the gym every day this week. you can afford the calories." then he pokes my ass with his tiny pitchfork until i take a cookie. and then i try to eat the cookie really slowly so that i can really enjoy it, hoping that relishing the cookie i'm eating will keep me from eating another one in twenty minutes. and then i go to pick up the operations memo i've just printed out and take another cookie.
it started with the three pounds of oreos--three pounds--that the head doctor brought in last week. it's just gotten worse. thank god i'm going back to oklahoma on friday, where the bulk of calories i injest will be my mother's cheap white wine. don't even get me started on satan-as-sommelier.
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i just got a tin of royal dansk cookies from some science supplier. i haven't been here or ordered anything from them in 5 months, yet they're still sending me shit. so they will sit in irina's *locked* office and collect dust. in about 10 minutes, i'll be frantically clawing at her door with bloody stubs for fingers to get those delicious, buttery cookies.
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