Fast Food Heals All Ills (except it doesn’t)

It figures. It’s Lent, and I’ve sworn off soda and fast food. And I’ve done really well! No slips or anything. Until today.

Today was a truly awful day in that my hormones have decided I’m 15 again and I have no business being happy or content in my life at all. I’m sure my recent bouts of insomnia haven’t been helping me much either. Let me give you some highlights from last night and this morning as seen on Twitter.

Know what sucks? Realizing the impotent rage of my adolescence is still alive & waiting for me to be too tired to weaponize my rationality.

Shit. RT @AudryT: @Maria_Disidoro Welcome to the rest of your life.

@SekritEmuSister I’m also sleep deprived &feeling like cramming ppl in a bile-filled hole. Which, incidentally, is why I’m hiding upstairs

Today, I am a throbbing mass of hormones, angst, and crushing woe. I do not like this. *eats cake and cries*

Having lunch with mom & Matt while I try pull my emotional shite together.

I think I’m having an anxiety attack. Yup. This is an anxiety attack. #DONOTWANT

Anxiety attack is subsiding for now. I’m armed with kitten pictures in the event that it returns.

@Maria_Disidoro So your Fake Saturday has turned into a Fake Sunday? #Mondayistakingovertheweekend

@AudryT Oh yeah. I spontaneously broke into tears no less than 3 times this morning, and nearly did again this afternoon when Matt promised

@AudryT not to steal any of my dumplings from my plate. I am a sad, sad Maria today and I don’t know why.

Kittens and lunch were only a stop gap in my weepiness, and I opted to stay home while Mom and Matt went to DC to see the cherry blossoms – I did not want to mar the lovely experience of cherry blossoms and museums with me being hyper sensitive and bursting into hysterical sobs in the middle of DC. So I stayed home, napped, and did homework.

Knowing I was sad, my wonderful, lovely brother decided to bring me home a treat in the form of – you guessed it – fast food.

There were many an exclamation of ‘Oh SHIT!’ when they came home, happily bearing comfort food which I… couldn’t… eat.

Finally, after about half an hour of us all looking mournfully at the tacos and chalupas, Matt said, “if it makes any difference, they were not at all fast making these for us. The guy in front of us bought pretty much all the tacos in the entire store. Possibly he bought all the food they had. So the fast was removed from the equation here.”

And thus, I ate the not-so-fast food. And it was delicious. I hope Jesus will understand.


About Morgan Maria D'Isidoro

Morgan Maria D'Isidoro has lived in Baltimore, MD for most of her life, saving a handful of failed escape attempts. Given the murder rates, she'll probably die here too. Morgan is a writer of speculative fiction and poetry, a musician of dubious quality, cat aficionado, art history fangirl, kitchen sorceress, recovering pyromaniac, accomplished liar, and an all around person of questionable employability.
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