Late last night I had one of the worst cravings ever for a Kit Kat bar. The chunky kind, because though the bars that you break into fingers taste exactly the same, I just don't like them as much.
Luckily I can usually convince myself that I lack the motivation to go out and get whatever food I'm craving, otherwise I'm sure I'd probably weigh twice as much as I do. I survived the night.
Today was a completely different story, though. At about 10 am I suddenly wanted that Kit Kat bar again. At lunch I angrily chewed through my homemade salad, my own personal version of the blue brie and walnut salad that you can get at Finch's Tea House on Pender Street. I made a pointed effort to walk past all drugstores and corner stores that I knew would have chocolate bars in stock during my lunchtime walk.
But I can only take so much. Sitting at my desk, I could hear Joanne taunting Yvonne in the cubicle next to me with a Kit Kat bar just like she does every afternoon. Only this afternoon it suddenly hit me: the lunch room on the 19th floor has a vending machine and there are chocolate bars in it.
I rode the elevator all the way up to find the lunch room empty. I pressed A1, popped in a toonie and squealed loudly when the chocolate bar dropped. Suddenly paranoid, I looked around quickly to see if anyone was watching then shoved the Kit Kat bar into my pocket and ran all nine floors down the stairs. Back at my desk, I inhaled it and then destroyed the evidence.
I'm weak.
|