The Fight

Another short absence, but I’m back again doing today’s Daily Prompt and putting my own semi-fictional spin on it.

The Fight.jpg

They stared at me from across the room, the tempting tidbits, mocking me, circling each other in an unending waltz as they beckoned for someone to take a bite.
“Just order one already!”
“Nah,” I said, trying to put it from my mind, wishing that I’d chosen any other seat so that I wouldn’t be able to see them out of the corner of my eye.
“Why not? Treat yourself! I’ll tell you what… I’ll even buy one for you.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “Really.” But my eyes held a different reply.
“I don’t get it. It’s a piece of cake. Literally.”
How could I put into words the joy and the terror that one treat held? The years of back and forth, of beating my body into submission to the point where I was almost okay with it, only to relent to my never-sated sweet tooth and find myself back at the start. She wouldn’t understand the look of horror on my mother’s face when she saw the way my favourite dress bulged, or that from that moment it took a place of honour amongst the items hidden in the back of my closet amidst the ‘maybe-next-year’ jeans and too-tight tees. How could she? It was just cake to her, a moment of indulgence in a string of otherwise healthy choices, in a lifestyle of exercise and sport and energy. But for me, it was a drug, a habit that I’d spent years breaking and relapsing to. For me, it wasn’t simply a case of one small treat. That one would be a catalyst that would make the wall of self-control crumble to the…
“Is that cheesecake?”
“Looks like it.”
“Dammit. Waiter!”

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