Meat Sweats

I could feel my body tensing. My pulse quickening. Sweat began streaming down my forehead and down my flushing cheeks.

It had been so long since I last experienced this—this sensation. This pain. 

I reluctantly looked down. 

Why?

Why did you get yourself into this situation? 

You know better. 

You’ve spent months recovering from the last time you were in this situation yet you willingly subject yourself to it again?

This is it. I should quit. There is no logical reason for me to keep going. 

But as I sit there, eyeing the brisket and ribs, I know what I must do. The mistake has already been made. The commitment cannot be undone. 

My arteries are officially one step closer to clogging. Yet—I eat another piece. And another. 

Each bite tightening the seams on my pants. 

My incessant complaining from my self-inflicted wounds increasing exponentially. 

I take the meat off the last rib. 

My mission is complete. 

But the pain would last. 

T’was hours of suffering, yet felt like years. 

Each moment of comfort quickly subsided to be met with sweat, heat, and an ever expanding gut. 

The only solution? 

Sleep. 

All of this… just to say that I missed my first post in months. I’m sorry, but please know, I paid the ultimate price.