You gotta eat your spinach, baby

The other night I hit a turning point.

That would be the understatement of the week.
Let me rephrase.
I hit a ridiculous, uncharacteristically absurd, most pathetic, unfeminine, anti Resa point.

I drank an entire bottle of red, consumed enough sugar to make a diabetic comatose and wallowed in my loneliness like a prepubescent teenager pining for the most popular boy in school who doesn't even know my name.
Nothing says I'm indifferent like self imposed, self destructive behavior. 
That'll show 'em!  Look what I can do!  Look how much I DON'T care.
It's like I'm 19 all over again and no one understands my pain.

Oh good grief.

And when the stomachache and the headache greeted me the next morning so did my common sense.

What the hell was wrong with me? And how did I let myself get here?

Damn wine.  A fine red is like a fine man; alluring, delicious, inviting and yet once consumed, if indulged in its entirety, it knocks you on your sorry ass and you're left feeling a little down, a little dizzy and a little disillusioned.

And I thought about how this whole being mature thing really blows.  And sometimes a little reckless irresponsibility is needed.  I can't behave ALL the time.  That would be boring.  That would be beige.
That would be the antithesis of Resa.

And then I felt a sick wave of devious pleasure when I recalled the blaring truth.

I, vixen that I am, embody the forbidden, the untouchable, the don't you just wish you could get your hands on indulgence that eternally leaves your appetite insatiable.  I am the chocolate chip cookies.  Warm, addictive, melt in your mouth chocolate chip cookies.  And you have been told you can no longer have chocolate chip cookies, that you will never again taste your favorite chocolate chip cookies.  And instead you are to eat spinach for the rest of your life.  You can fry it, you can sautee it, you can steam it, eat it raw or douse it in tabasco sauce but it is still just spinach. 
Not chocolate chip cookies.
And these cookies have no limitations, no dietary restrictions, no consuming dos and donts.

They just are, in all their sweet, juicy, yumminess, laying there.

Can't you just smell how good they are?

But too bad.  Your spinach is waiting for you with a side of steaming hot guilt and mashed controlling manipulation.

Mmm.  Eat up!  Or there'll be no dessert.

And I know how much you love dessert.