My English professor has a terrible sense of humor.
Lucky me, the same day my English professor assigned us our research papers, my car died. Then the school library closed for five days for "Thanksgiving," which, from what I gather, is an antiquated holiday celebrating love, gratitude, and yams. (Conincidentally, this holiday coincides with what we in the life-leeching retail business refer to as Hell Week, during which I had the pleasure of working six days straight and getting yelled at for not having enough earbuds.) By the time I had time to research anything at all, my roommate came home from Colorado barfing like a high schooler at a frat party, and I had to procure the necessary chicken noodle soup and orange juice. (The bastard lost five pounds, too. Me? I gained seven.)
As I'm sure you can assume, all this stress led to quite a bit of comfort eating. Here's a rundown of what I ate during the last two weeks:
Half a bag of Oreos.
A McDonald's apple pie.
Three white hot chocolates.
One possibly poisonous bottle of Diet Coke.
Half a pumpkin pie.
Four boxes of macaroni and cheese.
A $1 Jimmy Johns sub.
A "Party Size" tub of humus.
Two mini bags of Cool Ranch Doritos.
Twenty-three oatmeal raisin cookies.
A LOT of Twizzlers.
And a partridge in a pear tree.
The best part of all is that I totally bombed the paper, which means I am now simultaneously looking for all possible opportunities to shove Oreos into my face AND ways to lose twenty pounds before Christmas so that at least I won't be the fat freshman failure for the annual "my, how you've grown, how is school?" holiday inquisition. If anyone happens to know of a diet that lets you eat Nutella and spray cheese for two weeks, take a 48-hour nap, and wake up with the body of a bombshell, please let me know.