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Software of the Month Club 1995 September
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SOFM_Sep1995.bin
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diet
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diethome.txt
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1995-07-31
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DIETING AT HOME....ALONE?
My diet had been going pretty good and it was a Wednesday
night. The wife and kids were going to the church supper of
fried chicken, mashed potatoes & gravy and other fattening
stuff. "No," I said, "I better stay at home alone and have my
special diet dinner. Y'all have a good time...see ya later."
They departed and I hurried into the kitchen to fix my diet
meal of turkey, slice of bread, some spinach and an apple. I
didn't want to spend too much time in the kitchen, less I be
tempted, so I ate the food quickly while standing up at the
kitchen counter. Off to the den to watch TV. Good, dinner was
over and I was out of the kitchen, even if I didn't feel very
full or satisfied from the meal.
It was then I heard the first little voice. But I was home
alone, wasn't I? Then, there it was again! "Hey, I am ice
cold in here," it said. I heard it clearly. Then it
continued, "I'm the leftover potato salad....I'm ice cold and
the pickles and mayonnaise make me taste so good. You were so
legal last night and didn't have any...and today you have
only had 1200 calories so far....what could just a little bit
hurt. You deserve it. You earned it." How can I hold out
against such logical reasons, I thought. Then I heard another
voice......"I would be just perfect for such a good dieter as
a reward...I am the last bowl of chocolate pudding that your
5-year old wouldn't eat last night. I can't be used as desert
for the family and no-body wants me. I would be just perfect
for you." Now I am hearing these two voices....repeating over
and over...and the craving in my stomach is increasing. I am
at home, alone and no-one would know or say anything to me if
I did indulge. Besides the evidence would be gone. I feel
sure that we will have to throw the leftovers away in a few
days anyway...and what about all the starving people in other
parts of the world. Well, if all this wasn't enough...then I
hear yet one more sound....."POP, POP, POP....I am the
popcorn sitting here in the tin can....won't you please pop
some of me...it would be so good...and with a little bit of
extra melted butter and salt....oh, I would be such a good
reward for you....you have been such a good dieter these past
several weeks." I can feel what little will-power I had left
dwindling away. I know what is about to happen and I know I
will hate it in the morning. But what could I do? No-one
would be expected to resist these "voices" calling so loud
and convincingly to me. I am rising out of my chair. It is
almost all over but the eating...the voices are cheering me
on...my stomach is doing flip-flops. Then, I have a one last
desperate thought. The mail hasn't been brought in today and
I was expecting an important letter. Hurriedly I put on my
jacket and dash to the mailbox. Heck, no mail. But I can
still hear the voices from my kitchen calling me ....as
loudly as ever. What is this, telepathy? Maybe if I just
walked down the street a little bit or something. After all I
am outside with my coat on....so I start down the street. It
is a full five minutes away from my house before the voices
start to dwindle..and other thoughts start to drift into my
mind....and that emptiness in my stomach begins to subside.
After ten minutes of walking, I turn around and walk home. It
has now been twenty minutes since my desperate exit from the
house. The voices are stilled. Things are quiet. My appetite
is satisfied. Was this real? I open the fridge just to
see...and those things are still there, whose names I won't
call out loud....but they are silent and don't even look so
attractive now. I retire to my den and begin reading an
interesting book that I had forgotten about and the evening
passes quietly until the family returns. Saved! Thank
goodness for the mailbox....and then the walk...whatever.
Perhaps if those voices ever start to call for me again, I
will get up and do something sooner. I almost lost it last
time and I don't want that to happen again when I am home....
ALONE !
by M.D. Smith