Too Much Pain, What's for Lunch?

I used to smoke, but that's over now.
A long-lasting relationship with those white cylinders that were always there for me. Helped me out of so much heartbreak. One puff at a time.

They say "breathe". And I did.
And it got my through.

Now I chew.
Smoking's out. Not cool; the glares of the modern elite shame you into snuffing them out.
But food—still okay.
Still kosher.
croissants with dark chocolate nestled inside, doughy noodles and creamy sauces.
Giant just-about-to-be overripe luscious peaches.
Food, is my Savior.

Always there for me.

There's a lump in the back of my throat,
and all that longing wants spill out past it and I just. can't.

Ribs dripping with tangy sauce, charred T-bone off the grill,
carne asada, and three brightly-colored salsas with mashed avocado on the side.

Food, still sanctioned.

What is not sanctioned, is the the donut roll easing it's way above the edge of my jeans,
the rounded ball which is now nestled under my breasts,
one that if I were impregnated were garner all kinds of positive attention, support, and nurturing.

but this one only generates side-ways looks, muted whispers, and self-loathing.

And just at the moment when I need to look my most beautiful.

At the moment when I am putting it all out there.

I am finally, finally on stage, singing my heart out.

I am singing.

And that is a miracle.

How did I get here?
and why now that it is happening, am I fast-tracking myself to Weight Watchers, knowing that I would never submit to groups or systems or restrictions.

I am all about indulging.

I am all about doing what makes you feel good (or better).

I am all about coping.

But this? It's sabotage.

And the bigger I get, the more my outside is in conflict with the inside Mimi.
The one that wants to leave it all on the stage, the one that wants this to be a permanent way of life.
The one that wants to be a diva and a star. The one that could be that, and will
if she can turn this ship around.

I'm not hungry, but my pain is.

Pancakes, soaked in real maple syrup and creamy butter,
crispy smoked bacon, tall lattes and crunchy fresh-baked biscuits
Reese's peanut butter cups—the salty and the sweet, taking me straight to heaven...
a shortcut.