This week, I’ve been under a pretty tough deadline writing an article for a new online publication. It’s a great opportunity, and being the overachiever I am, I wanted to hit this first piece out of the park. As the deadline loomed and my nerves grew more raw, however, I did what most every person on the face of the earth does: I self-medicated.
My self-medications of choice are sugar and salt. This week, I started my treatment in the usual ways — a cookie here, a brownie there (actually four brownies at Community Supper, but they were small). I applauded myself for getting healthy decaf, iced-coffees with soy milk and deluded myself about how much liquid sugar I was adding. My husband has what he calls a separate “dessert stomach,” so there are always sweets in the house, some sort of sorbet or chocolate bar. I told myself that joining him in these indulgences wasn’t really self-medicating; I was just trying to be a supportive wife.
Then came the salt cravings to balance all that sweet. Half a bag of chips. Then the other half. Then crackers with chunky, salty peanut butter. Hey, at least there was no sugar added. And I was sure my writing was improving. Throughout this process, I rationalized my actions — you are working so hard, you deserve this! As opposed to the reality — you are so freaked out you are dulling your senses with crap food in the remote chance you will feel better.
On Wednesday, I drove to NYC for a Moth Mainstage and stayed with a dear friend who was hosting the event and also self-medicating with new dark chocolate peanut M&Ms — a combination of sweet and salty that makes my dreams come true. Plus, aren’t there reports that dark chocolate is really good for you? And peanuts are protein. I think when you eat dark chocolate peanut M&Ms for breakfast, you are really watching your health.
In the end, I wrote a very good article and met my deadline. Still here in Manhattan, I wisely chose to celebrate with a treat and not toxins — a lovely, inexpensive pedicure where I chose the fabulous color “vermillionaire.” Proud of my healthy choice, I decided to reward myself, so I swung by a Starbucks on the way home. This time I asked for only two pumps of liquid sugar instead of four. It’s a start.
And speaking of pedicures, I will leave you with Anjelah Johnson’s nail salon. It does not get much funnier than this. (There may be a short commercial at the beginning — bear with it.)
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