They’re Only Cookies (Patreon)

Oh god!

They’re only fucking cookies, for christ’s sake. 

But why the fuck do I need them so fucking badly?

Why am I doing this? Why the fuck can I not control myself? Why can I not stop eating them?
This, this isn’t like me. I’m not like this. Some glutton. Some slob. I’m not some mindless eating machine! But why can’t I seem to get a hold of myself all of a sudden? This is bad. So bad! 

My willpower isn’t usually this dogshit. Sure, I might not be perfect, but I’ve never been this awful either. Ever in my life! Even back in college!

This all started a couple of nights ago. Wait, almost a week ago. Shit had it already almost been a week? I had never even heard of these fucking things before that. 

I was just minding my own business, food shopping after work last Thursday. Thought I’d be a little shitty & duck into the cookie/candy aisle. Hell, I had every intention of getting candy until the packaging caught my eye. I should’ve known there was something up with them in the way they came in a tub, & not like a regular sleeve bag with a carton inside. Like a whole bucket of cookies? What’s up with that? Cheap as hell too, which only sweetened the deal. 

Jesus Christ, cookies over candy though? Here I thought they were the healthier option! 

Didn’t even bother to give them a second thought. Not until way after dinner when I started feeling a little peckish.
And I kind of knew it was a bad idea, but I had been good all day, & was light on my calorie count. Even still! I only grabbed one!

It was good. 

Really good. 

Chewy. The right amount of moist. 

Perfect chocolate chip ratio. That tiny hint of coconut. Just to give it that texture?

I didn’t even realize I had gotten up to get another one, right up until I was about to sink my teeth into it. I grabbed two more & naughtily ran back over to the couch. 

I didn’t even have time to beat myself up over slipping!

They were gone in about a minute. I couldn’t even slow down to savor them.

What’s worse is I kept making trips. Another four, five at a time. Next thing I knew, I was walking the whole tub of cookies back with me. 

They were all gone before my regular weekly procedural medical drama was over! And what’s worse, I realized I had another half hour before the grocery store closed. And despite the fact I was already in my pajamas, I very strongly considered running back out to grab more. Instead, I opted to try & get them delivered. Only something went wrong & the delivery got canceled. 

That was the universe trying to tell me a message. 

But what I hadn’t realized was that somewhere over the course of that first bucket of cookies, I don’t know, it’s like my brain was suddenly broken.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the damn things. All night! I couldn’t fucking sleep!

At the same time, I kept trying to tell myself “It’s just a fucking cookie.” But it was no use. When I passed out from sheer exhaustion, there I was, fucking dreaming about the damn things!

And the next morning, I stopped back at the grocery store, on my way to the office, & grabbed three more tubs. Just to have them.

I didn’t think about it though. The worst part was that they were just sitting there, off to the side of my cubicle, staring at me. Just fuckin’ daring me.

I really did my level best to not crack the bucket open & start housing the damn things. Believe me! I tried! But by the time 9:38 had rolled around, I couldn’t help myself.
After that, there was no stopping me. I was such a pig. 

People in the office kept staring. They were watching me like I’m some sort of freak show, with equal parts chuckles & horror. I could tell they were judging. And I really don’t blame them. Hell, I know I would judge if it was 9am & my coworker busted open a fresh series of buckets full of cookies, devouring them, only to show up with a whole other set of new tubs just after lunch.

Because that’s precisely what happened.

I could not stop eating the fucking things.

That was last Friday. 

The next day, I tried canceling plans determined to go to the gym & try & offset some of the damage. But it didn’t come to fruition. I mean, I canceled the plans, alright. But I didn’t make it off the couch. And not without more cookies. At one point, I got the same delivery guy, twice on Sunday. I couldn’t look him in the eye. 

It is now Wednesday.

The worst part is I’ve been supposed to be cutting this whole time! I mean that was the plan! My beach trip’s in just six weeks! I’m setting myself back so far with each one! Fuck, I can almost feel them. All going straight to my ass! And my hips.

Monday, I knew I was in trouble when I had problems getting my trousers on. My ‘fat’ ones, that are comfortable no matter what, simply because of the amount of stretch they have. Er… well.. had.

Throughout the day, I could feel them getting tighter & tighter, digging into my waist. At least what was my waist, let’s be honest. All day, cookie by cookie, they just got more & more restrictive, more & more uncomfortable. Until just suddenly, I heard this little rip & the seam popped. And my fat ass ruined my favorite pair of pants! I wrapped my sweater around my waist & awkwardly waddled out the door. Told them I’d finish up from home that day. “Under the weather.” Susan, that bitch, she was in the boss’s office. “Think it was something you ate…?” She was such a passive aggressive lil… Rrrrrrr!
Would love to see her get hopelessly fucking addicted to these things! Blow up like some fucking whale.

Anyway, you’d think I would’ve like, I don’t know, learned some sort of lesson from that? 

But no.
No, I snuck home early, got MORE GroceryDashed to me, & buried myself in how embarrassing it was, all the more, that night.

I’m in a frumpier skirt today, one I borrowed from my roommate, this morning just a little after she left for her job. Nothing in my closet was working, & luckily, she’s just a few sizes bigger but like… even that’s snug in a few places on me now. I fuckin’ hate it. The pattern, the fit, & what’s happening.

A few days ago, I would’ve been swimming in it. But right now, I look AND feel like a blob in this. At the very least, it’s just baggy enough where I need it to be, to hide me a little. Now that I am actually becoming a blob. But I can tell that even this stupid thing isn’t fitting the same way it fit this morning!

I don’t want to be a blob. I need to get a hold of myself. What’s it going to fucking take?!

You’d think, with all of these warning signs I should be picking up even just from wardrobe issues, it should be enough to tell me to stop. Like I’m running out of runway here. Even at a larger size, I’m quickly running out of things that can fit me.

What happens when nothing fits me?

Why the fuck can’t I listen?

Why do I constantly need more?

Why do I keep reaching for another & another?

It’s like, I grab one, tell myself “this is it! This is the last one!” But the very instant I finish it, the desperation kicks in & I can’t stop myself! It’s like I’m automatically already going for another. I mean can’t keep myself from grabbing another. Then, if I even have the wherewithal to realize it, I just repeat the same meaningless lie to myself. “Last one!”

I can’t fight it. I’ve tried fighting it. Hell, if anything, actively trying to fight the craving only makes it worse! Then I start doublefisting them.
Fuck, this is so bad!

Of all the fucking things to become addicted to.

Fuck! What is wrong with me?!

What’s to become of me if I can’t stop this?

Will I just get fatter & fatter? Blow up like some kind of fucking balloon? Like a Thanksgiving parade one! Is that what's going to happen?

I mean... at this rate...

Oh fuck, this bucket’s running low now too!
Fuck, fuck fuck! Where’s the other one? I thought I came in with six! Why…? Wait! Five empties? And this one…! Fuck did I… go through this morning’s already?!

This is bad!

So bad!

|||

This was a warm-up. Done in about a sitting & a half.

The basic premise was the realistic inner monologue of someone in the thralls of a mysterious food addiction. I very loosely kind of made some nods to a certain episode of a kind of screwed up (I think French) kids cartoon about espionage. You can make those connections should you so choose, but I mostly wanted to focus on their lack of control & the exasperation of realizing their predicament & yet being utterly helpless to stop it.