Today I really, really really want a cupcake. Specifically one of these Hostess cupcakes that my boyfriend buys and I eat, despite the fact that I don't even really like them that much. It’s similar to the way I used to be with pot, where I always smoked when it was offered to me, despite the fact that I almost immediately wanted off this ride now.
But it’s been a stressful week, and since my MO is reaching out for external solutions to my internal problems, I really want to write myself a prescription for 2 cupcakes, stat. Like many things I’ve already written about for this site, I really shouldn’t put this on the Internet, but I have an awesome 14-year-old girl in my life that I'm not biologically related to. I met her through a program that I’m possibly going to get kicked out of for writing about this, and she decided not to go home last night. I think it’s just typical teenage drama, but a stint in foster care can render you pretty savvy, so her text messages to me were perfect masterpieces of tragedy and manipulation, from “I don’t know where to go I can’t go home” to “But she hits me every day!”
I don’t know diddly squat about boundaries, but luckily I have an emotionally healthy boyfriend to run things by and together we came up with the obvious/brilliant idea to talk to her mother, who promptly begged me to keep her for the night so she’d be safe and off the streets. Tell me all that doesn’t make you want a pastry.
But somehow I actually managed to use the kind of healthy tools that never seem half as enticing as good old-fashioned self-destruction, like meditating and making phone calls to friends. (OK, and some very minimal stress-shopping at Forever 21, but Jesus, I’m doing my best.)
And the truth is, I feel good. I’m just uncomfortable feeling good – it scratches and tickles like a thrifted sweater. But I’m trying to get used to it.
Oh, and. When I was snapping the photo for this article, my boyfriend sighed and accused me of putting him “on blast” on the Internet again. This stems from the fact that I once wrote in a piece about weight loss that he had told me he probably wouldn’t have dated me when I was fat. Commenters were not amused. So, for the record, he bought those cupcakes before I started my sugar detox, and is supportive enough to fake-gag and yell, “Oh, these cupcake taste terrible!!!” when he eats one.