Self-Restraining Orders There are two times I can think of in my youth where I enjoyed something so much it made me ill.

I was younger than ten the first time. My parents were having guests over one evening, for a party or a holiday, and a plate of snacks had been put out. The plate had crackers and meats and cheeses, but I was only concerned with the meats. I must have eaten a whole plate of sausages as well as a second plate once it was refilled. The rest of the evening was spent being sick in a bucket in my room, because we only had one bathroom, and it was needed for the guests.

The next time, I was older, maybe twelve. I ate an entire box of Dare French Cremes for lunch. I wasn’t a particularly big eater except when it came to things I enjoyed. To this day, though, I can’t bring one near my mouth without thinking about the feeling of being so sick from something so sweet.

I don’t like to think of myself in this way, that I’m a slave to addiction, or that I haven’t got the willpower to stop myself when I know better. Not to suggest that I knew better back then; I was just a stupid kid. But still, how long does it take to learn restraint in the face of common sense?  ¶ 6:33 AM