Let me set the scene for you…
It’s 11PM on a Monday night.
I’m standing in front of the freezer in my kitchen, pulling out a half-gallon of [ice cream flavor].
I’m telling myself, “You’ll just have a little.”
(If you’re not laughing at me already, you should be. We all know where this is going.)
Fast-forward half an hour later — the empty ice cream tub is sitting on the floor by the couch, so completely empty that you’d think my dog came through and licked it clean. Except I don’t have a dog.
I’m sitting on (OK, more like in) the couch. And what am I doing?
Sitting there thinking that there’s something deeply wrong with me as a person because once again, I’ve gone on a binge. And now I’m full — actually, way past full — but still feeling empty.
But you know what?