I am in serious withdrawal. I'm thinking of entering rehab, as it seems to be the cool thing to do as of late. Celebrities consider rehab a weekend at the spa. I need a weekend at the spa. DESPERATELY! I am in withdrawal because I've quit the Junk cold turkey. You must think I'm crazy but it's all because of my brother. Here's the back-story: It all started a few months ago, in the height of my addiction. My brother (Greg) was playing THE basketball game of the year against York U. This was the game that would be the deciding factor in whether or not they went to Halifax (or the "BIG SHOW" as I continuously called it; much to the chagrin of all around me). Late in the second half my bro's team was losing. The fans were all on the edge of their seats. In the hope that the game would turn around, I made a deal with the man upstairs. I promised that I would eat better if they won the game and kept winning in Halifax. (Somehow my mom has convinced me that God cares if I eat well - I was sheltered growing up) Anyway they won the game, and I was forced to eat well for a month. Now, if I had made the deal for something that I wanted, I have to admit that I would've blown off the promise to God once I got my way. Don't judge me... you would do it too... But because I was playing with the whole teams' future I had to follow through. So here I am two months later, still trying to eat well. It sucks! I pass by anyone with a bag of fries and I seriously consider pushing them into traffic, grabbing the bag and running for my life! I swear, the aroma hits my nostrils and I go crazy, I turn into the hulk (albeit a female slightly browner version). I never said addiction was pretty. Visions of French fries dancing merrily, just out of reach, consume my dreams. I am sick. I am one step away from ending up on the street.
Gladly I am not as sick as these people:
This is TRUE addiction