Doughnuts Are Trying to Steal My Soul… Or At Least My Figure

In general, I try to be a fairly health-conscious person. I love fruits and veggies, I try not to eat too many cookies or over-indulge on French fries (French fries are pretty much my kryptonite) and I even get plenty of Vitamin C. But nothing seems to lure me into its cleverly woven web of ass-enlarging delectability, quite like a doughnut.

Now, the problem with doughnuts is their aroma. On a windy day, I'd bet the scent of a doughnut can travel at least a mile. 

I encountered this very issue this morning.

I was walking to my car after class, minding my own business, jammin’ to some Passion Pit, when I caught a whiff of that heavenly scent. The priority-shattering smell of fried dough imbued with layers of sugar and frosting.

There I stood, frozen in my tracks, keys in hand, eyes wide. I could just picture the glaze glistening in the sunlight like the first snow fall of winter. I’m pretty sure I may have started drooling at one point and people kept driving past, staring at me like I was completely insane for standing in the middle of the parking lot, apparently staring into space.

But they didn’t understand, the doughnuts were calling. It was time for do or die. My fight or flight response had kicked in and adrenaline was surging through my body. Do I fight the divine chorus of the doughnut’s call and continue to my car, or do I give in and let the wafting bouquet of butter and sugar carry me to the doughnut shop like a cartoon character seeking a pie?

Trying to think logically, I began weigh the pros and cons of a potential doughnut purchase. This, of course, lead to rationalizing such an egregious expenditure of calories. At this point, I’m pretty sure my brain no longer had any control of my actions what-so-ever and the doughnuts (or potential for doughnuts, anyway) had completely taken over my higher mental faculties and I was left with was the reptilian part of my brain that does little more than keep me breathing. And now all I could think about was how I was standing in the parking lot, reduced to Reptile-Brain-Girl. Then I realized how that sounds like a really lame super hero and how I couldn’t possible have any exciting or awesome superpowers, because I can’t even fight off the fucking doughnuts!

  Anyway, as the wind blew again, I was brought back to dough-nut or don’t-nut decision-making (yep, that totally just happened). “Just remember,” Doughnut’s mind-control powers say, “You went for a run yesterday and ate really well and went to bootcamp last night. You can totally afford a few extra calories.” Like one of those sneaky little shoulder-devil-shoulder-angel battles, except the angel overslept or is stuck in traffic and I’m left with shoulder-devil Doughnut making all the calls.

 

Well, needless to say, I caved and evil shoulder-doughnut won. I did, indeed, purchase two glorious, melt-in-your-mouth, sugar coated O’s of victory and satisfaction. You may have one this time, evil shoulder-doughnut, but you’d better sleep with one eye open; I know where you live.