Ineffective Coping Mechanism

Thanks to a growing protuberance around my midsection, it occurred to me yesterday morning, as I felt my tummy rumbling, that perhaps now would be an appropriate time to rediscover the fruit-yogurt-water-KashiGoodFriends(TM) diet I had going a few weeks back. Better yet, the Self-Starvation thing I had going a few weeks before that, an ill-conceived but undeniably creative synergistic solution to both my physical and financial woes.

And I'm pleased to announce that when I bought my iced coffee yesterday on my way to work, I resisted the beckoning - - nay, pleading - - calls of the Amish Market pastry display, and my coffee and I went solo.

Until I ran headlong into a coffee cart at the next street corner, and there was a Don't Walk sign so I was pretty much stranded there, and I thought to myself, 'What, you're going to stand here stranded for who knows how long on this desert street corner and just let yourself starve to death until help arrives?' So, in the interest of survival, I bought a donut.

Okay, that's a lie. I almost gave in, but I resisted that donut.

And then spent the next three blocks desperately sniffing out another coffee cart like some sort of lard-thirsty attack hound, and then walked a full block out of my way when I finally spotted one, even though I had a perfectly timed Walk sign which would have led me safely and swiftly into the breakfast-less depths of the 49th Street N/R station, and that's when I bought my donut.



An enormous, half-cooked, glazed donut.

The good news is that pregnant brides are kind of a Thing in my family.