Eater's Remorse

How appropriate is it that I introduce Eater’s Remorse to you just after eating three large rice crispy treats in a matter of seconds?

Allow me to present to you… Eater’s Remorse. A disease, nay, a LIFESTYLE that has defined me since the dawn of my conception, Eater’s Remorse is best described as “the empty, shameful feeling one experiences after stress eating, compulsive eating, and or binging.” Sometimes accompanied by flashbacks to previous incidences, which can occur years after the episode, Eater’s Remorse has no mercy to its beholder. It will ravage any fatass it chooses to possess and will never stop.

Do you think you may be a chronic sufferer of Eater’s Remorse? Allow me to enlighten you with an anecdote from my personal life:

It was July 23rd, 2008. McDonalds on Pacific Coast Highway in Newport Beach (might I add the best McDonalds I have ever set foot in—plasma screen televisions and incomparable chicken nuggets). It was sometime around 10 PM: prime fatass cruising hour, ALL the drive-thrus are jammed. I drove through McDonalds, shamelessly rambled off my multi-thousand calorie regular order without so much as batting an eyelash: the two cheeseburger meal, large fries, coke, ten piece chicken nuggets and four barbeque sauces (Note to McDonalds employees: DO NOT fuck up on the barbeque sauce count because it has the ability to make or break the order and therefore the entire experience altogether.) I then plow through the two bags it takes to pack my collosal order and, as I make my way through the second cheeseburger, it begins to dawn on me… I just consumed nearly half of my body weight in a high calorie/trans-fat/cholesterol binge… and I forgot to order a McFlurry.

This is a situation you may recognize to be strikingly similar to one of your own. Whether it be Del Taco, Burger King, In N Out, Taco Bell, Jack in the Box or WingStop—Eater’s Remorse attacks suddenly and without warning. However, long time sufferers of Eater’s Remorse become all too familiar with the symptoms and even anticipate the attack before they even start eating. These foreshadowing pains of guilt sometimes, but not always, inspire the fatass to make better choices.

But you know, sometimes its absolutely necessary to hit rock bottom to really help you see that you have a problem. And if I define my rock bottom as sitting alone in my car in the McDonalds parking lot in the middle of the night crying and smoking a post-binge cigarette—I have had too many rock bottom experiences to count. I recognize that I have a problem. And THIS ladies and gentlemen, THIS is the irreconcilable evil that is Eater’s Remorse. The addiction to food and the unconditional comfort it brings.

These are the Confessions of a Fat Bitch.