A week shy of the 10 year anniversary of adulthood (a mark of voting and such - and not so much the hard stop of making terrible decisions) I pause to blog. Long around seven, I convinced my sister our parents hated fun. They had some political agenda against it. "Practice your piano." "Learn your times tables." "Get outside and get fresh air." "Eat healthy shit." Fish, sprouts, vegetables fresh from the garden. At the point I thought it couldn't get any more terrible, my Dad learned of a "dirty rice" recipe on the television. Suffice the title as enough of an explanation. When my mom learned I loved mac and cheese she researched a recipe for it with whole wheat pasta.
Why must my parents destroy all that is good and holy? Why?
I left home at 18 - for reasons completely outside much of what I've just written. For years I was brainwashed. Fruits and vegetables, legumes, salad bars, low cal, low fat, low taste, low fun. Not long ago a light bulb went off: I can do anything I goddamn want. Is this what freedom feels like Thomas Jefferson?
I planned to celebrate adulthood and my God given right as an American - to eat donuts for dinner.
Its been a while since I've visited a donut shop, and most of what happened next can at least in part be attributed to donuts being as cheap as they were. I wanted one, I promise. But they were two for a dollar. And if two, why not four? I'm not confident that's logic which could stand up in an American courtroom, but we're just talking donuts.
I got milk. And four donuts.
I felt a little bad as I peered through the window at the Taco Bell across the road and knew that would be a healthier option. But it was too late - my fate was sealed. I clutched on to that white bag containing the four donuts that would become my dinner. Donuts for dinner. Was this what being an adult felt like? Had I discovered total freedom?
I got home and looked again - there they were. One cake. One long twisted sugar. One chocolate bar. One original. I uncorked the milk. I took one last breathe in. I knew in some way my life wouldn't be the same - or at least the night. The night wouldn't be the same.
Once I started I couldn't stop. I hadn't just gotten four donuts - I'd gotten four different kinds of donuts. Once I was done with an original, there was chocolate, there was sugar, there was always more, more, more donuts to eat. I couldn't stop myself. In the end - I had eaten them all.
I sat there stoically on my couch. "What have I done?" "WHAT HAVE I DONE?" My belly became raised and I held myself tossing from side to side. "What have I done? What have I done?"
What had I done?
It was a tough night, and a tougher next day. But what I found the most difficult, was forgiving myself. I eventually learned to let go. To look back and laugh, if you will. There would be no more donuts for dinner. It was a terrible decision, and in no way any true hallmark of adulthood. It would be a harsh realization adulthood was more about fun in moderation coupled with the making of good decisions. Decisions that didn't leave me rocking side to side humming "what have I done?" But for a brief time, as I picked out those donuts, and carried them home, sat in my apartment as king of my castle, I felt like a grown up.
