Snack Guilt

It’s 10 p.m. on a Saturday and I’m laid up in bed like a snack dragon guarding my hoard. I’ve got Ritz chips, regular Cheez-Its, and a box of stroopwafel cookies within arm’s reach. The TV’s on, I’m zoned in, and my hand just keeps finding its way back to the Cheez-Its. And in my head, I’m spiraling like: “Damn, I’m really going in on these Cheez-Its. I should stop. I should switch it up and eat some chips. I brought them all the way up here for a reason. I should at least have a few…” But I don’t want chips. I don’t even care about the chips. I just want Cheez-Its. So why the hell am I lying here feeling guilty over an unopened bag of Ritz chips like I’m neglecting a friend’s birthday party? Is this anxiety? Is this a big heart? Whatever it is, I’m in bed at 10 p.m. feeling bad for a snack I absolutely do not need.

Update: I caved. Had a chip. It was glorious. The Cheez-Its are pissed, but balance has been restored.