Purpose-driven compulsive eating

Piece by piece I’ve been eating an entire bottle full of a Extra strawberry flavour gum.  Chain chewing. Y’know, there’s not much point eating sugarfree low calorie gum when you’re going to have almost 46 pieces of it in an 8 hour period.  Oh what’s that little bottle?  Excess consumption may have a laxative effect?  In that case, no worries. 

I’m getting really sick of the big discussions about the meaning of life.  The smuggled premise is, of course, that there has to be a meaning, and if there isn’t a meaning to life, then existence really sucks.  As if to say it doesn’t suck anyway, with or without meaning, and that whether something sucks has any bearing on its truth at all. Oh look, I just cured childhood leukaemia by realising that it sucks and shouldn’t happen to innocent children!  Ha!  

In unrelated news,  I’ve caught myself looking at cleavage a lot.  I think I’m just comparing because I’ve become very vain and paranoid about gravity  It’s one of those things where once you notice yourself doing it, it just makes it worse. And I can’t correct it until I’m staring right between those boobs.  Even not very attractive boobs.  Old lady boobs get a look-in.  

I never thought I could be sick of strawberry flavouring.  Kill me now before I eat anymore.  I’d blame it on stress if I actually gave a damn anymore, but even the free blood pressure and cholesterol check I had at work last week reads like I’m on holiday at an Omega-3 convention.  I don’t think my fitness age will be so "optimal".  I gave up after 17 push-ups and I wasn’t even completely exhausted or anything – a little voice in my head said "just pretend you can’t do anymore, and you can stop".   That in itself tells me what my mental age is.