I’m in a fighting mood today. As we have already determined, Tuesdays suck, and I’m barely treading above 40%. So, what to do with all this anger?
Some may suggest such therapeutic activities as punching a pillow, going to the driving range, or letting it all out with an Alanis Morissette CD. Others may just sit around and mope, or vent to anyone who will listen. Still others may decide to go hunting and kick puppies.
My anger management technique of choice? I’m going for the food. 
I’m thinking fajitas, guacamole, mac and cheese, and mashed potatoes. Cornbread and apple crisp, topped off with Cool Whip. Hot fudge sundaes. Bacon. Cookie dough. Pie. You can sit there with your stress ball, yoga mat, and meditation exercises, and I will eat my strawberry shortcake.
The sage Elle Woods once told us that, “Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people don’t kill their husbands.” This might seem contradictory to using food as a stress reliever, but, isn’t eating just an exercise for our gastrointestinal tract? Aren’t we working our kidneys and jawbones? Isn’t the act of deciding what to eat (Taco Bell or Wendy’s?) an exercise of the mind? If so, I am raking in the endorphins.
Yes, over time, consumption of copious amounts of mac and cheese may harden my arteries, enlarge my love handles, and hasten my path towards obesity. I could end up bed-ridden and immobile at old age, a beached whale pining for the days of my limber youth. In the short term, however, a little bit of Velveeta may save me from belting out “Ironic” and letting cocker spaniels fly. So, there is a tradeoff.
There may come the day when, in fact, I have developed a surplus of chins, and the whale analogy has become less and less funny. Perhaps then I’ll stop depending on cupcakes and fries to broker my inner peace treaty. But right now, I’m still young, limber, sole-chinned, and more dolphin than whale. So, if I’m mad, I’m getting out the frying pan… to make pancakes, not to kill my husband.
