I didn't even really want the cake by the time I got to those last few bites. But I couldn't resist...the tang of sugar on my tongue, the mouth-feel of the fat in the buttercream frosting, the taste....
I ate it anyway. Finished off the piece. Now I'm sitting here in my cubicle looking at a styrofoam plate smeared with brown and white and flecks of blue, with a plastic fork smeared with the same colors resting on top.
And I feel slightly ill, and completely not in control, and more than a little bit embarrassed.
And it wasn't worth it, not really. Not really at all.